Does its presence vanish,
Like dew drops in the morn sun;
Or linger on unashamed,
Like stench in still air?
Do its footprints hide,
Like a wave's on a sandy beach;
Or in remembrance persist,
Like a warrior's battle scars?
Does it a known destination reach,
Like rivers that heed the call of sea;
Or journeys to just about anywhere,
Like thin smoke from a dying fire?
Does it in death's rest pause,
Like a male honey bee;
Or continues uninterrupted,
Like the naked scorching sun?
Jeffrey Febi
This poem was first published in the Writers's Forum of The National. It is also an entry in the Crocodile Literary Prize; a competition by PNG Attitude (asopa.typepad.com) to encourage PNG writers, poets and journalists.
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