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Friday, July 9, 2010

"tan duro, la vida"

Visited my brother today
Little have I slept tonight
thinking of his swollen eye lids
giving away the pain, the sorrow
for now they see life’s waning days

He sleeps even less than myself
His eyes remain open when others sleep
Recently his eyes didn’t wake
and his wife, with tearful eyes
did violently, his body shake

Sometimes his body forgets to awaken
It grapples every day with infirmed pain
His digestive track no longer in his control
medicinals prescribed are experimental
his liver, kidneys and white blood cells
have forgotten to function in balance

His eyes now stare back at me
Much the same that Mother’s did
When for many days and years
She would speak the words
“ tan duro, la vida “
distractions of youth did not allow
my ears to hear and understand

Now that my own body has taken life’s blows
with prosthetic hips and unkempt broken bones
my ears manicured from hair now grown
Staring into his eyes if I dare
Mother’s words I now compare
diurnal tug at life’s hairline strings
Upon my now also swollen eyes
Reflecting my little sleep

Monday, July 5, 2010

Painted Coat

Every moment every day, I paint myself with a different color coat so when one washes off while walking through the storms of life a different coat evinces from underneath and awaits a redress to the color scheme of my portrait on the canvas of life.

Sometimes I cover myself in a color to mesh with the day, the night.
The contrast of color I choose on a day when it’s grey allows me to play in the rain without being seen. It allows me to escape into the quiet while all around me still exists as I can see them while they cannot see me. Of my choice and depending where and with whom I’m around determines what color coat of paint I wear.

If I’m amidst Natures wondrous wares, the majestic stone mountains who’s aged caverns are filled with running rivers and streams seemingly the fallen sweat from the escarpments that rise so high they pierce the cotton swollen eyes of the skies which then cause their tears to fall and replenish the Sun dried tributaries and like a Bird of paradise, I dance and frolic within the Earth’s arboreal hair line left unscathed by man‘s hand.

Like deer in the forest and the diminutive terrestrials that scatter when strange feet walk onto their abode and birds shriek loudly flapping their wings wildly, feathers floating behind in air as they make their escape, I too with my multi-colored painted coats separate my self from the undesirable intrusion of sometimes Man’s nefarious intent.

From moment to moment and day to day, I can remove them and leave them behind without regret. I know when my Life ends into that transition of a new beginning it will come with greater ease as I discard what once I hoard of mundane worth removing the shelter of my coats.