Capulet

If the world is a stage, then my life is

but a scene, part of a grander scheme,

found within endless chapters in pages,

wrinkled and torn, abused by dark ages

like the faces my grandmother wore

after burying all of her sons; husband.

she’s forgotten what she wrote in those worn

 scraps of parchment; used to piece together

her broken memoirs. A tale sans a tongue,

forever lost to the sands of time which

compliment a mind that never learned to read

between lines or spell out what spilt from others

mouths. Miseducated through ignorance

and poverty, yet she sang more joyously

than the highest seraph sung. The curfew

bell is almost rung, time to go inside,

reunite with loved ones I don’t remember.

Dimly lit memories never summonsed;

Buried in the deepest recesses of

Your heart; forever locked in a perfect

Circumference made of precious metal:

That adorned a single left finger of

Mi querido Viejo.  Her dear old man,

Who took the key to her heart on to

The next land. A wide eyed adventurer

Who only heard the whispers as his feet blistered

while he trail blazed a platform through space

and time. For the prophecy said the world

was mine. Through my newborn iris he read

said lines in the book of life, long before

he died. This is the soliloquy he

left behind, never doubting what I am

destined to be. For my name was written in

his eyes, which were damaged by cataracts,

 heart attacks, dissolved pacts, and violent acts

that took every male who misguided I

and gave me a fresh start at age 1-5.

Those eyes also perceived the promise

Of a dream that he read to her while

she slept. The promise that love would correct

what this tainted world would misinterpret.

So long as they stayed true, that was over

50 autumns ago. I’m too young

To feel so old, not wise enough to contain

What I know, nor strong enough to yet let go.

I must never forget the aforementioned,

Lest I become this chapter’s villain,

So I upload my plight into the

ether’s cold chilly night. And it may take

A million hits on YouTube just to

Get it right, to understand one moment,

Before I can move on: remind myself

 of why I can’t lose. It was never written,

and I am the Author.