A rendition
of personal history
Snapshots of
who I use to be
When life
happened to me
A mosaic of
lost affections gather near me
Time distills
my past love, ever adding present fascination
I forgot the
flavor of my childhood favorite candy
Or at least
the obsessive desire that shadowed my waking moments
Flowers from spring
are harvested
On display,
they dissolve into the household scenery,
Suddenly
discovered withered, unceremoniously discarded
Along with
the rest of worn out utility
My father
worked hard, at tolerating his default profession
In order to
put bread on the table, he often said
He gave up
his dreams and possibilities
For the
whispered promise of security
When I was
naughty that bread was all I’d get to eat
Then wash
down the humiliation with tears
He was my
first hero, a stern mystery
His kindness
always arrived like the circus in summer; unexpectedly.
He would take
me on adventures all the while filling my head with fantasies
The live
theater, his favorite music.
He was
magical in that way
A master if
not of his universe, certainly mine.
I’ve learned
that the pillars of history are supported by special dates.
Ours is the
task to remember them, in order to keep traditions alive
He died on February
18th
A sunny
winter’s day
To
commemorate the loss of my family’s light
Or celebrate
my freedom to face the unknown horizon
Beyond the
unadorned hills that preserved my known valley
Beyond the judgment by a man who kept the standards
secret
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