Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Sometimes

My mother and my older brother, Carlos, 1986
It's funny how, after the people in your life pass on, they slowly drift from your consciousness, regardless to how close they once were. Yesterday was my mother's birthday. It had slipped my mind, until my older brother, Carlos, reminded me in a text. To be fair, my family has a lot of birthdays in July. It can get confusing.


Anyhow, none of this would really mean much if not for the fact that, yesterday, I finally wrapped up editing on my novel manuscript, Killing Lilith. I sent it off to be read by an editor who I believe will want to publish it. This is a big deal, for me.


The fact that I got it off yesterday seems apropos. Mom was my biggest inspiration to be a writer. She believed I could be anything I set my mind to. She was my earliest fan and advocate. She would be really proud to see how much all my hard work has paid off, thus far. So, yeah, I may have forgotten her birthday, but I certainly found a way to honor it. 


Here, a little belatedly, is one of the many poems I've written inspired by Miriam Esther Figueroa.

Sometimes

I sometimes wish
you could see my success.
When I wish too loudly
I am told you do,
I am told you share in it,
I am even told you help.
I don't believe them.
I want to believe them.

Perhaps I'm just so vain
that what I truly want
is what I can't have:
to hear your pride ring
loud like church bells
after mass.

Is it really my pride
or just a need for your
reassurance to go on?

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