the room is sterile
free from any love germ
only the tiny beasts of whatever
perfect in nature are adored here
in this sterile cold dry room
my gut told me
“She passed.”
referring to the death of an aunt
i hardly knew
i don’t feel grief
not yet
and
as i explained to my-self
some people might never feel it
to mourn loss is difficult
to mourn loss of a loved one is hard
to mourn for and carry a heavy heart for an enemy
is tougher
i don’t feel such loss for the masculine things in life
as i do for the feminine
to have had a physical mother
never to have experienced an emotional mother
or spiritual mother
has been loss
yielding veils of survival
darning lies as i went along
because for this ride
you must be tough
to have had to rip my addiction demons
from me without a cowboy’s hickory stick
to bite on
while all of Murphy’s laws
chose to shred themselves
has left a raw gaping hole
in my crippled soul
yet there is a certain life-long journey
a chipping away of the spirit
the grief polishes
nearly to transparency and vulnerability
that fake shine as seen on t.v.
we can certainly fight
for all our lives
against this erosion
but we will not win
in my age
i can now see
the entirety of who Taino was
what he meant to me
i could not
in my youth
see that deeply yet
*dedicated to Jose Montoya POET
words less spoken 