A Dos Dedos Frente Ti

De Ivonne: Aqui te envio mi escrito para publicarlo si quieresen la web, junto con la foto de Deia. Un beso y cuidado en las carreras.
From JP, to those who don’t speak Spanish: use the Google Translate feature, located above the search bar on the right.
Deia – foto par Ivonne

.
A dos dedos frente a ti
cada mañana tu brisa llega a mi
a dos dedos frente a ti
tus palabras a mi oido hablan sin fin
de nosotros, de ti y de mi
a dos dedos frente a ti
tu descanso me turba a mi
de volver a aquel abrazo
que sin saberlo, era el fin

.
A dos dedos frente a mi
mi esperanza sigue en ti
de todo lo que sembraste
para volar sin ti

.
A dos dedos frente a mi
mi amor vuela junto a ti

14 December (Poem by Stephanie)

Stephanie’s brother Tate sent this poem to me to share on the site. You can see the handwritten version more clearly by clicking on the images, but the copies are faded so it’s typed here as well. 

Page 1

Nobody, nobody at all
is going to care
when I die.

My brother and I were our mother’s
legacy to the world.
My father left his papers and letters to fill
in the gaps of what I know of him and what I didn’t.

I have a son alive somewhere in the world
a son I gave up for adoption
when I was nineteen and he was born a 9-month baby in the 9th
month of the year 1960

I as a child–mother gave up my
responsibility for his life.

Page 2

Where is he now?
Is he well – happy?

Nobody, nobody at all
is going to care
when I die.

No child of mine
will want to hold dear
the moments of my life.

My son – adopted
living where – how
will ever know me.

No one, no one at all
is going to care
how I lived and died.

My soul, my soul’s life
had himself made sterile.
We will have no child.

When I die
no one at all
is going to care.

Cada Mañana

La voz de Patrick en las palabras de una amiga.

Cierro los ojos y lo oigo…cada mañana
Que bonita es la vida!, que bella!…
hoy he visto al hombre con su tractor
bajo el sol, entre els marges
cuanto trabajo le queda
cuanto trabajo hace
como redibuja mi montaña
como me enseña sus secretos
siempre ante mis ojos
siempre sobre la ventana
cada mañana
que hermosa vivirla
acaricio mi albahaca
su olor me embruja
y yo seducido quedo
por el brillo del sol
tras la montaña

cada mañana

Wearing His Trunks in the Hotel Pool

Wearing his trunks in the hotel pool,
My eyes stinging from his absence
      and the heavy chlorine in the water

Jacuzzi, as agitated as my heart,
      and just as empty

I soak in the hot and turbulent flow,
Remembering lively conversations
Wishing there would be more

It’s a crisp evening,
      the sky clear,
Populated with stars and memories

I remember too his pain,
The agony that immobilized him,
      extinguished his vitality

At long last the timer shuts off
      The waters turn tranquil

I see again the peaceful beauty of his final place
      Am comforted in his choice
      Serenity and final destination
At last, freed from pain

It calms me

The knowing of it releases my own

I need not follow his specific path

I accept the loss
      try to heal
Replacing each sad memory
with some joyous moment from our mutual past

     

Copyright © 2018 John Dillon

NOTE: This is private, non-published material. You are reading it is because I have shared this with you privately for your feedback.