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the last lullaby before your revolution
by pedro pinon gregorio

sing him another lullaby before you go,
before you sing in the wilderness
the chant of the mountain steeped
with death and blood of your comrades.
look into his eyes, into the irises
which know nothing of your struggle,
foreign to your history or command,
your daily doctrines or dictations.
sing to him well, my sister, in your arms,
those arms that will once again cradle
that gun to the calgary of your south.
smell the milk-sweetened lips, those lips
that tugged at your breasts for a measured
mornings and evenings of his life.
sing the final lullaby under the moonlight 
that you will remember his face
in the dark awnings of your forest.
those dusky green isles that will hide you
from his fistful of stars.
memorize those eyes that will search
the crowd for your familiar face.
your face that will slowly grow gray 
from endless sunsets until he learns to seek
the comfort of shadows and shades.
sing to him the lullaby, sweetly, my sister,
until he closes his eyes for darkness.
though tender must be the voice that will 
gather his mind from this slumber,
the heart will need a gentler waking
        
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Poem ID: 4854   Poem Posted: 5/22/1998
Viewed: 10036  Voted On: 140  E-mailed: 15  Commented On: 0
 
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