Their Tears

I weep for the coughs I hear down the hall

I weep for the kiss I've learned not to miss

I weep for the crows and their merciless calls

I weep for the ignorance, probably not in bliss

I weep for the television, the radio, the news

I weep for the children, the arms, the mind

I weep for the emotional physical abuse

Are those bombs falling from the sky?

I weep for the cities crashing one by one

I weep for the world holding cattle of man

I weep for the seas glowing red with blood

I weep for the guy, laying, gasping for air

I weep for the boy sleeping on white dust

I weep for the girl blowing out red candles

I weep for the parent begging for burnt crust

Is there anything we can't handle?

And I weep for the sake of humane humanity

I wish for more compassionate mentality

I hope for nurturing loving maturity

I pray for the some sort of sound sensibility

So many years of ingenious evolution

So many years of quickened progress

Always on point with being efficient

Maybe it's time to start mourning before death.

Goodnight Grandma

A tribute to my mama

Goodnight Grandmama; sleep tight tonight.
Let your dreams take you away.
Let them take you to a far away land with
clouds beneath your feet. Yes, your feet Mama,
your feet! Throw that wheelchair away, you need
it not. Not then, not ever.
There will be no more suffering and no more pain.
You are being upgraded;
your voice more melodious, your nose sharper,
your bones stronger than your stubbornness,
your mind quicker.
But your eyes will stay the same. Those hazels
exude such warmth and wisdom, they have reached
the epitome of perfection.

I miss you Grandmama.

I miss you Grandmama. Rest your precious heart.
Your amazing heart, filled with love, was never
once too full. Every rhythm had a purpose;
you embrace the world on every thump.
Kindness and empathy always by your side
as you touch the lives of the babies and the grandkids,
the girls and the boys, the women and the men,
the father and the mothers, the friends and of course,
the husband. I wonder if it had ever beaten just for you.

They told me your heart had a condition, Grandma.
They told me it was what brought you to sleep.
I think it was just weighed down by the gold it holds within.
You carried so many of us in there, it's incredible
how big it is.

I love you Grandmama.

I love you, Grandmama, I love you! Do you hear
our cries, Grandmama? Grandmama, I am screaming
up to you! Can you hear me? Grandmama!

I love you.

I miss you.

I want you.

Why did you leave?

Goodnight Grandma; I'm going to bed too.
It's still early so I'll send up a prayer, wishing
my dreams will take me away to a far off land
with my head in the clouds.

And through my pillow, I shall meet
the memories of you and learn to beat
the tempo of compassion and song d'amour,
the dance of affection and how to grow room for more.

Butterfly

Please pause. Freeze pane. Let me take another breath in again.
You were, right here, right there. I can't remember your name.
You are the blue shirt on the crowded bus,
each person pushing me toward the memory of us.
You are the music buzzing in my ear,
every beat touching me, holding me down.
You are the cool breeze on a hot sunny day-
surprising and fleeting, a phantom lingering fay.
In my arms, I caught you, I held you. Only to open up feeling our sheer dismay.

I'm In Love With You

I see your smile on the boy next to me.
Your eyes glitter across the hall.
Your lips on mine when my head's asleep.
Your gentle touch catching me as I fall.
My heart runs free through the park at day.
My love, the chain, around my neck.
My memories dances with the said, unsaid.
You hold power to change smiles to tears and back.
What am I to do,
when I'm still in love,
with the one I've grown apart?
What can I do,
when I'm deeply in love,
with the one who broke my heart?

Naked Moment

His face so familiar; so estranged.
Our stare intent. His eyes, brown from the memory
of my lips, were blue and black and blank all at once.
His confusion hits me only by recollection.
My gaze transcending; I couldn't tell if he
had beard or had nose or had mouth. But he sure did lose
his voice.

I cannot recall my look I gave but muscles remember
concoction of betrayal, shame and pride through the glasses.
The face of intense silence as the endorphin continue
dusting tickling magic throughout my body. I hope he
didn't look down.
My bare bottom couldn't have handled anything more.

Love Exchange

"Dear grandfather,
shall I go to the market with you today?"

"Lovely child,

why don't you stay home with grandma instead?

I can go there by my lonesome;

my legs work fine."

"Wear a hat for the sun,

sweet husband of mine."

The Way He Sees

He sees the world every day.
He gets out of his bed into his chair and out to his world.
I swear I was prettier than that little missy pushes him around.
He waves at me.
For years his eyes has never changed. The same wave as
he steps through the same threshold. When he left for work,
when he left for our freedom, when he left for the grocery,
it was in different outfits, different legs and different faces but
he has always looked at me the same way and never leaves
without his signature smirk.

Life used to be crystal clear, then a blur, then grey with the cataract sky.

I remember the bus stop we first met.
I remember the rice fields we splashed our way through.
I remember the tree we first held hands.
I remember the kiss, so brazen, at the hidden corner of my father's warehouse.

Permission. Arrangement. Engagement. Marriage.
He bore me children of seven. Seven bundles of smelly diapers,
raging tantrums, disobedient students, anxious candidates,
proud graduates, driven businessmen and grandchildren.

Today the smirk has gone old.
The concrete ceiling, I see myself in, cries in the rhythm of my
youthful pacemaker. He has been through family gatherings and world
wars with my cheers ringing in his ear; each time reigning undefeated.
Who would have known that the boy who once held my world in his
hands would be beaten by a tiny cell?

From my own prison, I can see the cancer wear him down
day by day; his clock delaying one more second every sunrise.
At least he gets to see our world each day. My eyes feel his
every wave and my heart replays that entrancing smirk.

Little Soul

We met yesterday as any other day, before dawn,

after dusk. You looked as how old would appear

in fatigue's silhouette. Scabs ripped and wounds

reopened by the fangs of another, permitted

to penetrate by your heart. I try my hand at the

bad sewing and offered five doses of a dozen sheep,

every one soaking up the congenial shame you bleed.

One, the words rerun.

Two, the cruel time spools.

Three, the flashbacks breathe.

Four, the story recalls.

Five, your jaded spirit dives
into every memory and with every memory, the
hallucinations come back with a new found volume of

sacrilegious vengeance.

Soon, what that did not once cause a tear will create

the downpour that drowns even the most defensive cactus.

Six minutes in and the girl who learned

to build her fortress of smiles is now the

same one cowering under the blanket.

Even teddy broke a sigh.

You, the luckless shattered soul, have no onus

to hear the cries I screech silent in my head.

Hush now, you are as young as I remembered;

as I pictured; as I find; as I think; as I dream.

You are as innocent as prison calls, as charming

as stars' glow at death. Hush now.

You know, the grand empires you conceive shall never truly

be safe and the majestic castles you raise shall never truly

protect when you are only hesitant to countenance
the entry of the unmelodious serpents.

Congratulations

I can hear the glitter.
Do you hear the glitter?
Gold yet transparent, it's in the air.
I can breathe it on every strand of my body.
It's under my skin. I stand on it.
It cheers.

My mouth gaping, teeth rejoice.
The furrow suspicious but the eyes hopeful.
The tears drown,
The feet fly.
I'm above ground.

My heart stops; the crowd beats for me.
Arms shaking, flailing, squeezing, raising.
The noise silent.
The time replays and rewinds.
Cameras obsolete.
Spit confetti.

Do you hear the glitter?
It was from my soul.
I left it on the stage, now it's in the air.
Tears of the infected; it's under their skin.
I bask in it, I sob in it, I cry for it.
I hear it cheer.

Limerick Holiday

Agnes and Pam on holiday
Through the streets we shout with gay,
"Goodbye Dublin;
You've been supreme,
But Limerick city, we're on our way!"