Mom
Perfectly ironed sheets and pillow cases
and her perfumes
always delicious cakes
and her cookies
soldiers that are defeating all little imperfections of this world
Angry and proud woman,
she's not perfect, but she's closer to perfection
than anyone else she has ever met.
always feeling that somewhere, somehow
life made a fool of her.
My mom
denying every weakness of mine
because, who am I to cry over broken toys.
after all, what is one broken toy
when there so much troubles to endure in life.
My mom,
I thought she had a heart of stone.
Her smell, tidy with a touch of rose scent
a window to her soul
delicate with thorns, and blood red,
Dad
sweaters at the top drawer
and little chocolates underneath
surprises for my sister and me.
Quiet strength and infinite patience
a piece of bread and honey pouring on it
making perfect stream of circles.
My dad
never doing what he really wanted
but he's happy.
Riding Castaneda's books and meditating
knowing when I'm lying
and pretending that he doesn't know.
My dad
denying my emotions
like it's wrong to feel.
A little boy, grown up in a cruel world of poverty
and ignorance
who had to find out everything on his own.
I'm sorry that God took the one you loved the most
I'm sorry that this world made you cry so many tears.
|