Solitary Man

This was written by my father as he sat in a cold prison cell just before he died.

Solitary Man       written by Andrew Martinez

 

Blessed god, my god, I am so alone.

I stare at the roof above me and try just to breath.

How curious, that the sudden awareness of my coming death has awaken me to the fact that I have no one.

I spent my life discarding loved ones like broken pots along the way.

Faces flutter across my soul, and guilt overwhelms me

when I must struggle to put names upon their smiles.

Images whirl like snowflakes around each face,

Falling... Falling

Now I even understand how I did it.

As I grew older piece by piece, I chose to move outside myself.

Those ideas and people that cluttered my solitude

Old friends, new friends they were all the same.

I did not have the stamina for them.

I truly believed that like bits of granite they weighed my soul.

Demanding my attention, gobbling more and more of my precious internal moments.

I was fighting for my life.

For the lives of others were such draining ties I could not afford.

I thought if I set them aside I would have the strength for greater more profound efforts.

Not only for myself, but for everyone.

That is not how it happen.

You see I was in solitude for the sake of the work.

And the work required me to create a magnificent self.

All strengths went into this creation.

"The Splendid Imposter"

For many years I have been telling myself that doing battle with him is too difficult. I am too old and tired.

Surely I can postpone the battle for another day.

A day is nothing; tomorrow I will begin the hunt.

Tomorrow I will stalk him until he leads me into myself.

But as I look up at the ceiling I realize, there may be no tomorrow!

There may be no tomorrow and I am condemned to spend my last moments with a man I do not know at all!

A soft desperate laugh escapes my throat.

Blessed God, what a vast sparkling wasteland I carved in my heart.

What an unhappy man I am.