Words of a Poet

Please note I am not claiming to be the author of this poem, the author is unknown

It’s been a tough year for me, Emma and especially her family. I’ve done my best to support everyone, I know how I felt going through loss. On January 6th we put Nana to rest. This poem was dedicated to her and it is really beautiful.

God Saw You Getting Tired

God saw you getting tired
And a cure was not to be,
So He put His arms around you
And whispered “Come with Me.”
With tearful eyes we watched you suffer
And saw you fade away.
Although we loved you dearly,
We could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
Laying loving hands at rest,
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best.

She will be definitely missed, a hard worker and the biggest heart for those who she cared about. So giving and took so very little.

In loving memory of Julia “Nana” Terrazas 

Antwone Fisher is a great poet, and one of my favorites. I’ve read his book and own his poetry book. If you haven’t read them I strongly recommend you do.

Who will cry for the little boy?
By Antwone Fisher

who will cry for the little boy?
Lost and all alone.
Who will cry for the little boy?
Abandoned without his own?

Who will cry for the little boy?
He cried himself to sleep.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He never had for keeps.

Who will cry for the little boy?
He walked the burning sand
Who will cry for the little boy?
The boy inside the man.

Who will cry for the little boy?
Who knows well hurt and pain
Who will cry for the little boy?
He died again and again.

Who will cry for the little boy?
A good boy he tried to be
Who will cry for the little boy?
Who cries inside of me

by Antwone Fisher from Who Will Cry for the Little Boy?

This poem was written by Jimmy Santiago Baca who I really admire. I definitely recommend reading his biography, it is really powerful and I thoroughly enjoyed reading his book. I hope you enjoy his poem.

Who Understands Me But Me

They turn the water off, so I live without water,
they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,
they paint the windows black, so I live without sunshine,
they lock my cage, so I live without going anywhere,
they take each last tear I have, I live without tears,
they take my heart and rip it open, I live without heart,
they take my life and crush it, so I live without a future,
they say I am beastly and fiendish, so I have no friends,
they stop up each hope, so I have no passage out of hell,
they give me pain, so I live with pain,
they give me hate, so I live with my hate,
they have changed me, and I am not the same man,
they give me no shower, so I live with my smell,
they separate me from my brothers, so I live without brothers,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?
who understands me when I say I have found other freedoms?

I cannot fly or make something appear in my hand,
I cannot make the heavens open or the earth tremble,
I can live with myself, and I am amazed at myself, my love, my beauty,
I am taken by my failures, astounded by my fears,
I am stubborn and childish,
in the midst of this wreckage of life they incurred,
I practice being myself,
and I have found parts of myself never dreamed of by me,
they were goaded out from under rocks in my heart
when the walls were built higher,
when the water was turned off and the windows painted black.
I followed these signs
like an old tracker and followed the tracks deep into myself
followed the blood-spotted path,
deeper into dangerous regions, and found so many parts of myself,
who taught me water is not everything,
and gave me new eyes to see through walls,
and when they spoke, sunlight came out of their mouths,
and I was laughing at me with them,
we laughed like children and made pacts to always be loyal,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?

By Jimmy Santiago Baca