Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Circle of Life

You walk through

the green and brown

maze of moss,

moisture hanging

in the air like

heavy breath

of decaying youth,

skin and yellowed

fingernails and eyes.

Walkways with names

of those, who can’t

walk anymore but

left a sign that they

were here, lurking

in the shadows

of moonlight,

made love at evening

between the fallen

giants of dense forest.

Who danced with

the Seven Sisters by

the Lovers pathway

to temporary heaven

of passion, sweat

and desire to live,

if only for a day.

Did they die

like the fireflies

of night pretending

to be butterflies?

Or did they whitter

to be old like

crumbled leaf of life

to remember those,

who died in a flash

of wondrous thunder?

Old lovers carrying

brown carton boxes

with the ashes

of their young lovers

to spread them

under the heavy

branches of the

sleeping giants

of Stanley Park.

Dec.01.2024, Vancouver