Sometimes I visit
your terse land of dreams,
I touch every bruise
hoping it would fit my hands
so I can apologize
for your wounds
Sometimes I fraternize
with the quietude of the night
so that I may learn
to harmonize
with your laugh and sighs
Sometimes I visit
your sleeping memory
But I always fall out
for its rooms are crumbling
with drunkenness
and rusts
Sometimes I cajole
for understanding, pawning
rationality for sympathy
but it remained
scarce in these evenings
I lost my own
Perhaps I shall go on
struggling with forgiveness,
frequently
basking in a threadbare
shawl of peace
in this wintry solitude.
Norman Santos
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/frequently/
