Thursday, April 01, 2010

My Grandmother, Doña Adela Sobá, and My real Dad. The Sentinal
























The Sentinel


I am not burying him,
not until I’ve recovered
every remembrance.

Classified them by School Year,
cross referenced under Asthma Attacks,
Injuries, and Grandmother.

No one is throwing dirt
on my memoirs until I’m sure
they’re written and guarded
from rain and snow and forgetting.









©  Sergio A. Ortiz.  Publisher:  Flutter Press, 2009

2 comments:

  1. Sergio,

    I love 'I am not burying him'; it strikes at my heart. Thank you so much. Best wishes.....pajamas

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks. When my father died I was in Mexico. I felt his death, the moment in which he died. We hardly knew each other. My mother divorced him before I was a year old. You see, he went insane and had to be locked up. I finally met him when I was 10, but did not see him again until I was 13 very rebellious. I really appreciate the support!

    ReplyDelete

Blog Archive

Followers