Friday, July 24, 2015

[Poetry] Surgery

"I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion. These three are your greatest treasures." - 老子 (Laozi)

i found a hidden temple in the holding room –
a spiritual sanctuary of reflection
where Father Time seems to dwell in infinity,
and meditation fills the sterile air.

You had donned Your silver surgical cap
an outward sign of readiness!
but i saw in Your eyes
and fear.

in the holiness of the temple walls,
You told me Your secret:
“estoy nerviosa.”

did no one else think to ask You?!
or perhaps They did not know how.

in this trusted space,
charlamos, y yo vi Su sonrisa.
You were finally ready for war, internally,
just in time
as You were then swept away for combat.

the Team prepped Your skin for incision
but it is clear i am without a role
in the Supreme Hierarchy
except as a mere
obstacle –
acknowledge my capacity
to have prepped your soul – for
held Your                           hand
as the                    sedation took over          and
Your eyes            began                   to close.                             
caught Your final glance,
stroked Your hand,                          and
sent You into battle.

i am indebted to You for trusting the deadweight.
You gave me a purpose
and make my passion
worth the mockery –
and so i promise
to faithfully

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

[Poetry] The Tree

In memory of D. S. –
Thank you for all you have taught me in your words and actions.

My heart’s still sad, though time has passed,
But now some peace I have at last.
My friend, through you, my mind recalls –
If, in a forest, a tree falls,
And there is nobody around
Does it, in fact, evoke a sound?

For I can hear the birds do weep
No twigs for nests or berries to reap.
And squirrels release a heavy sigh
No more acorns come from on high.
The owls hoot a solemn tune
Their trunk – their home – lost all too soon.
A loss sustained, the monkeys mourned
The treasured treetop vines adorned.
And who will help the fawn to grieve
The absence of the shady leaf?

The realization I have found
The tree indeed does make a sound.
Not from the loud thud of the fall
But from the life it gave to all.

Friday, July 10, 2015

[Poem] My broken lengua

"If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart" - Nelson Mandela

Disculpe mi español-
my broken lengua

me siento guilty for the robotic "hola"
that escapes mis labios
cuando i introduce myself
and proceed a preguntar such personables
about sus funciones corporales:
<<cómo se siente hoy?>>
that one-liner sin conexión o empatía
que todos los doctores seem to know...
<<bien>>, responde,
porque sabe we couldn't understand anyway -
la complejidad de su dolor

it is as if language barriers are reduced
to mere algorithms ...
to heart rates and blood pressures...

frustrante es
porque estoy aprendido una lengua nueva
so you don't have to
para recibir ayuda when you need it.
no sé porque a veces hablar sin esfuerzo
and other times nothing comes out...
lo siento, pero estoy tratando
i swear.

Disculpe mi español-
my broken lengua

but you are helping me piece it together.
sí - juntos!
poco a poco, estoy reaprendido
me pide por una taza de hielo
para su boca seca
y conversamos por primera vez
sobre las cosas importantes.

su paciencia y confianza en mí son regalos.

durante su estancia
el trabajo es mío. no suyo.
debe ser cómodo en mi hogar.