A Poem Written for a Friend and His Grandmother

Maria (Italian) 

Ogni vita è un filo,
tessuto, misurato e tagliato,
La vita scorre come un fiume
fino alla Morte
che ha preso la sua anima
che è bella
come lo era lei
Tutto ciò che rimane
sono i ricordi del passato
Così triste e solo,
chiudi gli occhi
e lei è lì
sognala
così forte e dolce
e anche se la vita va avanti
lei non se ne andrà mai
Non dimenticarla
e amala sempre e per sempre

Maria (English)

Every life is a thread;
Woven, measured, and cut
As life flows like a river
Until Death
Who took her soul
That is as beautiful
As was she
And all that remains
Are memories of the past
So sad and alone
Close your eyes
And she is there
Dream of her
So strong and so sweet
And as life moves on
She will never leave
Forget her not
And love her always and forever…

 

Broken Ceilings

(photo of where my son’s father broke into my apartment through the ceiling…one of many tragic events I was still working through when this happened…)

Broken Ceilings

I am isolated, I am alone,

Where my past brings back the terrors that come at night,

And I am a prisoner to the secrets of my own transgressions;

I live in the darkness,

Where the sun is reticent,

And naught of the existence I once had remains;

I can not find my way out of all the lies among the ruins,

Where I am blinded by delusions,

And the ceiling breaks, it’s caving in all around me;

I am a corpse, fragile, brittle, and weak,

Where my sacrifice was less than what fate would take,

And the murky watery graves are buried in the abyss beneath the surface;

I am lost, gone, ne’er to be seen again,

Where the burden I bear is too severe,

And my heart afflicted such that death is welcome, desirable;

Less to suffer, less to endure, less to sustain…in this life I am no longer living.