By George Freek

FAREWELL (After Tu Fu)

Now we have to part.
You go in one direction,
I go in the other.
Will we be drunk together,
ever again? Last night,
walking beside the lake,
we sang ballads to the moon,
nearly until dawn,
answered by a lonely loon.
Today, we share headaches.
We can’t know what direction
our lives will take.
I’ll return to my home.
You’ll remain in my mind,
but you’re also on your own.
When I finish this poem,
once again, I’ll also be alone,
listening to the waves lap
against the shore, quietly
eating away the stones.


The day ticks to its conclusion,
a clock without a face,
a symbol of my confusion.
Far into the night,
I look at the moon and stars.
I watch them fade from sight.
They glow like lanterns,
but they don’t last.
They show me no path.
A sparrow searches for worms
in the cold autumn grass.
It seems futile, as leaves
fall with infinite peace.
They fall in brown and red.
They fall because they are dead.


The sky is like a table
I am hiding under,
a table made of glass.
Clouds drift through its cracks.
Night arrives and the day
is lost. A star flickers.
It’s what we’re made of.
But it sees nothing.
It knows no desires.
Soon it will burn to ashes.
It does what it was
meant to do. It rises.
It flickers, then it dies.
I was only meant,
it seems, to wonder why.

About the Author:

George Freek is a poet/playwright living in Belvidere, IL. His poetry has recently appeared in ‘West Trade Review’; ‘Off Course Literary Review’; ‘The Ottawa Arts Review’; Limestone Journal’; and ‘The Sentinel Literature Quarterly’. His plays are published by Playscripts, Inc.; Lazy Bee Scripts; and Off The Wall Plays.