What Must Be Remembered

The heart of the child you were resides in you

You have always been this person

as you have grown and changed

You have forgotten this from time to time

Here you are so many years separate

from the first embrace with your mother

You question yourself

Yourself is I

Yourself is Me

We are One

This voice is You

Did you see the part in the clouds

No but you saw the sun 

shining all around 

Adulthood

I always thought being an adult was going to 

be different. Not sure how different but I did 

expect it to be different. I feel most aware of 

time and it's passage than I have ever been. In 

childhood and school days it always felt like 

time was this never ending vastness that was

stretching far into the future. As the years have 

passed I see time as a thing that is hurrying to 

rush past me before I can even comprehend 

what has occurred. Milestone moments of my 

life feel like blips on my life and they begin to 

recede into the cavern of memory. I imagined 

that by this age I might be a husband and father 

but that has yet to be the case. I live in an age 

of infinite information yet I feel true wisdom to 

be in available in precipitously small amounts.

I am not alone in how I live but I know many 

who live vastly different lives. There is no right 

or wrong in this but rather in what we grow to 

value and love. I ask myself what I want and 

oftentimes it falls into a few humble things: 

to be able to provide for myself, to be left

alone to my own devices, indulge my mind 

and writing, to travel and explore at my leisure, 

to enjoy the company of family and friends, to live 

a life not dictated by financial and societal pressures 

that seem to grind so many into husks. I have a job, 

a car, bills and obligations of my own choosing, 

and I am largely happy. I do feel unease at what has 

been done or left undone. I think about the coming 

years and wonder how they will be. They will be as 

they must. Of that I am as certain. I think of my father 

and how he is the most adult person I have ever known. 

His work ethic, his sense of duty to his wife and children, 

I have known no one more exemplary of the qualities I 

feel make a good adult. I know he is human and fallible. 

He has made his mistakes. I feel as thought I am lost and 

wandering. Am I waiting to be found? If so, by who or 

what? Perhaps I have merely been in search of myself. 

There are times I cannot help but feel foolish. How dare 

I consider myself an artist when there are so many others 

far more talented and deserving of such a title. I create 

in my own ways for myself because I must. If I were to 

not do this I would die a slow death of the soul. 

I am reaching out. I am looking for ecstasy, peace, 
and transcendence. I wish to be more than what I am. 
I wish for everything and nothing. That is all I could 
ever ask for. I hope my journey has many more years 
in it. There are disappointments and heartache but I 
would be foolish to think of myself as having been 
the only person to feel such ache. My pain and suffering 
is but a drop in the vastness of time. Perhaps not even that. 
In time this may change or it may not. I am here and I am 
thinking about this life, this self. I continue on and I hope 
I am making the best of it. Perhaps some day I will be at 
home in a small house of my own deep in the land of my 
father and grandfathers, listening to the birds and wind, 

wondering about nothing and everything. 

In The Heart of Winter / The Summer of My Life

The winds have calmed
their anxious conversations
from last night. I listened
in as I fell asleep
and wondered what
they were upset about.

It is Christmas morning
and much has changed
since I was a child waking,
ready to rip apart presents
carefully placed under
our artificial tree.

I have grown to know
love cannot be measured
merely through gifts.
Love is far greater
than any physical object
that can be desired.

My youngest brother
is still young enough
to take part in the ritual
of gifts under the tree.
I am happy it is still
a part of his life.

I don't need much,
don't ask for much,
don't expect much.
I am content
to wake each morning
and see the sun.

Light shines through
my window
and lands upon
my desk.
A gentle, steady
reminder.

remember

I do not remember being born
I do not remember my first birthday
or even my fifth
I do not remember the first time
I began to realize that a world existed
beyond the doors of our home
I do not remember the name of the teacher
who made sure I learned to read
I do not remember the first time I fell
when learning to ride my first bike
I do not remember when I began
to live more and more in my head
I do not remember many many things
but I hope they are tucked away
into the corners of my mind
in some dust covered box
waiting to be found.

I remember trips to the library with my dad
I remember cutting my finger horribly
in the kitchen
and blood pouring out of me
like some pint-sized soldier
I remember falling off my parents bed
and splitting my eyebrow
I remember bringing home my dog Rocky
as a puppy and how much i loved him
in the way that only a child can love
I remember my mother taking care of me
when i had the chicken pox
I remember losing a baby tooth in mexico
I remember how tall and ancient
my father's parents seemed
I remember the first girl I thought I loved
not feeling the same
I remember how disappointed I felt
when I had to start wearing glasses
I remember feeling so awkward
for so so long
I still feel that
I remember thinking my parents
didn't love me
I remember the only time I saw my father cry
and how completely helpless I felt
I remember Rocky dying
and thinking my chest was caving in
because I was hollow after all


I don't wonder about the women
who broke my heart
or the ones whose heart I broke
I don't think it makes me callous
I doubt they ever think of me


So many nights
I've tried to forget
the small tragedies
the perceived unfairness
nights spent alone
wondering if I was ok
if I could get through
the next day
just that would be enough
and every time
I did

I remember all the times I've blamed bad timing
for the shortcomings in my life
I remember when I had to stop blaming
every one
I remember looking at myself naked
in the mirror
and knowing I was the only one
in the world responsible for me

Remains

Curved and pointed black iron fences

the parking lot of Christ's church.


Light guards spaces of an absent

congregation. The cross stands


watch as it hangs against the wall.

The parochial school across


the street is guarded in a mirrored

way. An old woman walks her dog


past the statue of a Spanish friar.

We notice each other as I drive by.


Three trees shelter one side

of the church. One of them bears


the initials of five young boys.

The church sits silent late at night,


the praises of holy names live only

on the tongues of sleeping parishioners.