A Monument with no Face and no Eyes

Paeng Ferrer
15 April 2013

"The greatest pretenses are built up not to hide the evil and the ugly in us, but our emptiness. The hardest thing to hide is something that is not there." -Eric Hoffer

I woke up sometime somewhere in a public park's toilet.
In the park, a monument stood with no face and no eyes.

When you left that morning,
I could not hear the question you asked
because a car rowdily drove by.
It made the same shriek I keep hearing now
even when no autos are around.

You showed a distressed expression
but what could I do?
I cannot tell cars to stop.
I cannot tell you to stop.
I am powerless.

Someone handed fliers
and talked about preserving the monument
and tradition? Or was it heritage?
I failed to remember.

It just occurred that I do not care
about the idea of "selling out”
now that it’s merely a positive memory
and to one which I’m unable to return.

Did the heat kill me as the midday arrived?

I learned to treat noises
from cars' engines as music
and smoke from exhausts as breeze.
I learned to consume soil using utensils.
I learned to ignore people talking.

I wandered around in the midday's heat.
Do not worry because I've asked myself,
“Why?” a couple of times
but got zero answer.

I am the monument
with no face and no eyes
but my tears are made of algae.

Perhaps my emptiness is also empty
and it is miserable, as well, to be inside me
because it aspires to escape,
just like you.

How helpless it is to look for
something that disappeared.

We were in a park
staring at a statue with no face and no eyes.

I dropped on the grass
but you remained tall.
I could only stare at your shoes
as you are about leave.***