Blessing ©

I have a memory that 

issues forth in evenings 

like a shining star in the

dark I will never reach.  

in melancholy it speaks

to me of unholy spirits

that I beat into joy and

release to the triumphant

paths of paradise not yet

found.  I often see old men 

cutting sugar cane in fields,

old women taking pastries

to sell in the market place, 

children playing in breaking

waves at the edge of the sea,

and the look in your eyes 

just before you said adios

to withdraw to a deep and

wide eternity.  what else 

can be confessed with such

a memory than admitting 

with divine delight we are

here to simply walk each 

other home.  

h. j. Recinos