“The day I was born I was born free and that is my Privilege.”

I see a stolid cat eyeing at your old hat and I remember you
June 4, 2008, 1:16 pm
Filed under: Familia

[e.e. cummings]

…His flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn’t creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile…

…his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he’d laugh and build a world with snow…

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)…





You gave me as my birthday gift a clip with a white flower on its end and an old lady’s wallet with my name on it,

You happily hum a song while preparing our commoner’s meal,

You pick sampaguita flowers for me when I rarely smile,

You smile and laugh even without your false teeth,

You sit with your Buddy, Brownie, in the steps while watching the children play,

You let me see you burst into tears on the one time you think you were misapprehended,

You give me your bed because you do not want me to sleep upstairs alone in my room,

You let me lean on your shoulders even though you’re not feeling well,

You let me be your child.

Gracias, mi padre, gracias.


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