healing in parts

whose fault is it when you cannot find safety in the arms of the home you’ve created? is it anyone’s fault at all?

will you heal in the same place you were hurt?

can you heal in the same place you were hurt?

should you heal in the same place you were hurt?

and what will become of the hurt if you do? of the place? of you?

and if not what is left?

what is left to break to heal to love to learn?

what is left but your softly whispering voice asking for safety but not knowing who from?

dia del padre

I remember the way it

felt when I had my first

girlfriend.

I didn’t have the courage to

tell you that I loved another

woman and so I let mami

tell you instead.

I remember the way I

climbed into the car and

squirmed into the seat beside

you.

I remember the way I

didn’t know what sounds would

drape the silence between

us.

I remember the way you

held my hand.

I remember the way you

healed me then.

I remember all the times

you’ve healed me,

papi.

When I asked you to

drive with me forever,

forever meaning only hours,

and you did.

When I told you I

was crumbling and you

taught me to handle

the weight.

When you told me I could

call you, always.

When you loved me.

When you always loved me,

no matter what.

You have healed me,

papi.

You have always

healed me.