I keep walking
carrying you in my thoughts
I feel I am walking up a mountain,
come my son
let your heart be as the cactus
with its spikes
protruding from the crusty dirt
offer the world your bouquet of thorns,
your heart reddens the dirt
when you touch the world.
Walk more, walk with me Joaquin,
let your lungs acclimate to the air
until your body begins its quiet song
without singing without words
moving in tune to the silence of the land
as you grieve a sweet sadness of missing your mother,
for how badly the world treated you.
I keep walking
carrying you in my thoughts
I feel I am walking up a mountain
see the old black cedars
that have lived for 500 years
decaying in their own glory
like candle wicks on a chapel altar
slowly smolder back
to their dark grief
let your grief be as such my son,
burn bright your grief before all the saints.