Chicano Poet

Wednesday, September 12, 2007


The Falling Man

Some say the world will end in fire,
some say in ice.
Either way, it won’t be nice.

Some have their hearts cut out
by Aztecs with obsidian swords
and find no heavenly rewards.

Some don’t see the train in time
and cross the railroad track.
There is no going back.

Some die of cancer or heart failure,
some die in their sleep.
Nonetheless, the relatives weep.

But I am the falling man
and I know what my fate will be.
I won’t hear the sound I make when it reaches me.

read the story of the falling man here.

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