My only constant source of adoration,

A favorite among all my friends,

Many and many stories yet to tell,

Around the fire you made so well....

He darts towards his prey,

A single woman scared to lose,

Which he intends to take today,

She runs,

But his pace more steady,

He catches,

Her but not her treasure.

Angry,

He made her labor and labor,

Labor until her exhaustion shut her body down.

He made her part with time,

and money,

and body and mind to make what he owned,

So that she would not have time to make what she owns,

He would own what...

I remember that summer.

The trees still birthing nuts and fruit,

My grandma comfortably sat in chairs older than me,

My papa still alive and well.

Yet a loss already enveloped my body.

My heart drumming,

My eyes mysteriously swell.

I knew not what I was yet to lose,

Or what stories I would tell.

All I knew was that the old chair would be empty one day,

And papa’s home as well....

I wake up all alone.

I say good morning to no one I know,

I say good morning to no one who supports me the way you would,

Not one I trust to try.

I force myself to care for our plants,

And sow the summer garden.

I try to love the others,

But there’s a wall I feel hopeless to dismantle.

I know I’ll have to go on,

But I have no idea how.

Truly, I don’t know why I would want to....