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…

 

The First Poem I Ever Wrote

I believe I feel like sharing this now even though my life story I plan to start sharing through September is about two weeks away…in its own way it is a poem version of how I saw my life from when I was young to when I finally wrote it down on paper last year.

The Arcana of My Life

Innocent and naïve, I once was

Until I saw the world

And what the future held for me because…

Insanity would claimed my mother for its own

While father vanished from my vision, and I knew not where he had gone

I prayed for God to save me, but realized soon he too had left me alone

Abandoned without love, I saw my own personal hell

Life moved on, as I stood still

Broken inside, but I could see that I hid it well

I withdrew into myself, weak and pale

Becoming blind to what was real

Dying felt easier than being alive, as I saw myself hanging from a rope, thin and frail

But Death would not take me yet

Fate was patient, but unkind

For all my sins and regrets, the Devil I did still owe a debt

Though I was not ready when he found his way inside my mind

Hope was fleeting, and I let go

Illusions and nightmares were all that I could now find

I look around my world, where the darkness has not yet won

And wonder what I would do to deserve what was to come

What price must I pay to live my next life out in the sun?