Metamorphosis

poem about cycle of life

Poem

It is winter when I leave my home in
the crepuscular morning. Summer when
I return at twilight. Spring occurs
somewhere in the in-between though I am
not witness to it. Men, women, children,
the old folks, policemen, doctors, writers,
bus drivers, wage workers, mothers, veterans
of fathomless wars remain in permanent
state. And although they are forever
unchanged in our memories, even the
dead are not immune to metamorphosis.
We begin as atoms, molecules, corpuscles.
We acquire the stuff of life. Our clock
guided by a persistent shock of electricity.
When it ceases, the animate return
to the world of the inert. Wood, earth, stone,
steel seem unmoving when viewed from a
distance. But enter the darkened chambers
of the brain, heart, intestines, spleen, liver,
the thickening highways of our veins,
you will find that Molecules devolve, dissolve,
desiccate. In furnace flames, calcine bone appears.
Then dirt.
Then dust.

more by SERGIO REMON ALVAREZ

photo by Ahmed Rizkhaan on Unsplash

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Sergio Remon Alvarez

Born in Madrid Sergio moved to New York City at a young age. He studied playwriting under Karl Friedman and theater at Purchase College. After college, Sergio moved to Alta, Utah where he was a dish washer, waiter, handyman, ski repairman, firefighter and free-skier. Upon his return to New York City, Sergio has alternately been a bookseller, boxer, painter, translator, graphic artist, jazz musician, and writer. He studied creative writing at Gotham Writer's Workshop, the Unterberg Center for Poetry, the St Marks Poetry Project, and New York University. He currently splits his time living in New York and Madrid. He runs with the bulls in Pamplona.

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