The City That Took Your Face

 

 

When I was a child....
 
 
 
 
I used to stare at your picture
 
hanging in my living room
  
  
  
Actually,

 

It was just a black
 
and white sketch of your face
 
 

  
  
I remembered a lot of things...
 
 
 
 
I remember sleeping next to scorpians
 
that stabbed my mother,
 
 
in the very same room
 
where your picture was hung
 
 
 
 
As a few years went by...
 
 
I grew just as how the violence grew
 
in El Salvador
 
 
 
 
I survived the robberies and death of others...

  
  
The imprisonments of the pact of brothers
 

  
I shed tears as how my uncle shed tears
 
from the stripes that were marked on his back
 
 
 
Most of all this happened right before your
 
penciled colored eyes
 
 
 
 
I used to wonder growing up
 
why you were only in my living room?
 
 
 
 
 
I saw the rain

 

more than I saw your presence

 

I've seen more pain as an adolescent
 
than I saw your portrait face to face

 






I got tired of wondering,
  
And no longer kept this question inside
 
 
 
 
I wondered if you felt pain
 
like the one I could never hide...
 
...and asked myself why you never even dropped by
 
to say a simple hello or anything at all ?
 
 
 
 
I finally asked my reletives who you were
 
because I was getting sick and tired of being unsure

 
 




My aunt said  you were my uncle
 
and that you were murdered before I was born, coming home
 
from your last breath of joy
 
 




The Guerillas stole my anticipation
 
from my uncle who was only a 15 year old boy
 
 
 
 
All this time I thought my life
 
was a sad story
 
 
 
I guess I was wrong
 
 
 
Atleast I have a story to tell,
 
unlike my uncle who was murdered
 
by the pit's of hell
 
 
 
Thanks to the Guerillas
 
I will never get to see his face
 
 
 
Or even hear his laughter
 
in this world...

 

 

...that can't replace
  

 

 

© 2010 Orlando Murcia