Her laugh from a distance heard vaguely in the near,
Vision of her face reminiscently will appear,
The glory of gold embracing light of the sun,
Shadows disappear as transformation has begun,
Magical colors of silver and gold,
Fading away the chill of cold,
Bringing warmth to that of those chosen,
No longer in a body left frozen,
Heavens embrace of silver and gold,
With the white of glowing snow,
Her laugh from a distance heard vaguely in the near,
Visions of her face reminiscently appear,
'Child of mine you followed my direction I put forth your way,
Come to me and do not be afraid,
I will walk you the rest of the way,
To meet your daughter,
Your husband and your father,
Thank you my child for believing in me when I asked,
It is my honor to introduce to you, heaven at last.

1/8/2017

I cant do it again,
I only began to feel alive,
and it was so easy to pretend,
that everything you had forgotten was,
well.. temporary.
How could i not notice that you started to forget what i had said,
that repeating my self had become a common occurrence,
I cant do it again,
feeling as though my time with you,
was a heart machine i couldn’t view,
and when you flatlined,
i would fall to my knees,
but a prayer won’t save you,
god has no mercy,
I cant do it again,
I don’t want to dress in the color,
that absorbs happiness and hides emotion,
I don’t want to be encompassed by sunshine,
but feel darkness wherever I walk,
hear about you,
but not be able to see you,
see pictures of you,
but not be able to take one of you,
I cant do it again,
not only I had a wounded heart,
you didn’t just hop off the side of the boat,
but you sunk it,
with everyone waiting on the deck,
hoping that you would come back,
we all knew you had shot a hole,
in the side of the boat,
and as the water slowly inched its way,
from the bottom of our feet,
all the way,
above our heads,
we stayed standing strong,
holding each others hands,
as silence and sadness ,
greif and worry,
flooded our minds,
but don’t worry we survived,
we remember your story ,
every day,
constantly living in your memory,
even though you couldn’t,
but i cant go through it again,
I cant go to school every day,
waiting for a call to the office,
hopping they won’t have anything important to say,
because that would mean it was all ok,
but silently hoping the day had come,
because that day all your suffering would end,
and you’d go into the white light,
see your mom and all your friends,
but if there is one thing i know for sure,
is that I can not do it again.

The rise and fall of our music seemed to synthesize into the light of the room. Our voices seemed to grow inside of us, padded with memories and laughter, growing full with the alcoholic nourishment, until all at once, it would bubble over into a crescendo. It was sharp and soft, harsh and tender, filling our ears with colors we had forgotten to remember in the corpse of the last few days. The staccato bite of reality brought the symphonies down to piano sobs that lulled the night into its dream. The room had a haze, golden in its familiarity, but the tune on the books was not quite right, the time signature gone. The rhythm was unsure; even the conductor pacing wildly about, looking up only to hear the echo of a waltz he once danced to in jubilee, with the promise of a life ahead. The music was now faded, on a greyscale, just like the wedding album. Only he could hear the melodies that had pulled him beyond the brink of love, under the threshold of its great fortissimi. He was content to have it play as the score to his remaining years, muffled and muddled, refusing to rest in his harmonious love affair. Unfamiliar with his own melody, his voice was shy, shaking, and broken. The audience sat, waiting to hear the sounds that could come from the maestro, straining in a beg to hear hope.

The sun shone on your last morning,
2 hours later snow fell.
Maybe this was you, gracing us once more.

You stood as a contrast to our black clothing,
your innocence, kindness,
against my guilt.
I should have called, I could have heard you one last time.

I am overdue for this apology.
It has taken me nine days to write this,
I'm not sure what was stopping me,
but I couldn't possibly utter these words.

We sat in a row, listening to old relatives speak about their past with you,
and all I could feel was your cold, thin hand grasping mine,
your large blue eyes looking for me with hope,
your beautiful voice singing me to sleep:
"in der Früh, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder erweckt"...

I wish I could convince myself;
God decided it was your time to go, as you had told me he would.
But I know you suffered and I know that He wouldn't have taken you
before I could have said goodbye.
Or maybe this was His plan, to make us suffer for you, for once.

"Want to know a secret
Just between you and I?
I am not really living my life
just patiently waiting to die..."*
But I never got an answer
when I sincerely asked her, "Why?"
###

"A" is for Abuelitos left back in Mexico who are
Heartbreaking knowing the moment,
they see their children leave home
to cross a dessert they might ever cross.
Heartbreaking knowing once they do arrive al Norte
decades might pass without seeing eachother.
Heartbreaking knowing that they might not get to know
their nietos because their salud esta muy delicada
Heartbreaking knowing that their would be a chance
of someone dying in either side
and wont be able to say the last goodbye.

"A" is for Abuelitos left back in Mexico who
I have never got the chance to meet.
Abuelitos who I loved since the day
I saw pictures junto a mis padres
Abuelitos who I share sangre y caracter and face feautures.
Habra un dia donde nos reuniemos como la familia que somos.
Pero hoy escribo un poema en sus memoria.
Tambien para los abuelitos que me siguen esperando,
Los quiero mucho y sean fuertes

In memory of Memorio Covarrubias y Cecilia Martinez.

leave    me    be

every guidance
a misguidance

growth is all I need

my inner law is strong enough
i won’t need any lawyers

no one to judge me but
two blue eyes in my mirror
ancient present from grandma

the first step - the highest -
was acceptance

what follows
should be equanimity

There was a bird flying above my head the other day.
I apologize for my stories delay.

The sun was out, the skies were blue - only quick glances today would do.
There is just something about birds, the way they cut through the sky.

Ugh. I wish I could fly.

My Grandmother absolutely loved birds - Cardinals specifically.
I have a few on my arm, so she and my Papa will never leave me.

They have been gone for quite a few years now...wow, how time flies.
Writing this is even bringing tears to my eyes.

I think that's why I like birds so much - I imagine they are my Grandparents.
Soaring the sky, exploring the world, checking in on me every now and then.

The year he left us, the Cardinals won the World Series.
The year she left us, the Cardinals lost the World Series.

Good one, Papa - I'm sure Grandma didn't appreciate your joke.

Each time you fly over me it brings a smile to my face and a tear to my eye, knowing you'll fly over me until the day I die.