stained glass windows

stained glass windows

the feelings i have for this city are those that i struggle to put into words

 

calm rainy mornings and the way the rain sticks to the car window

the little beads of rain like stained glass windows

i can see through, distortedly  

but somehow they make my view all the more beautiful

 

every step i took felt like one small step for man and one large step for my future

 

the cement was my own gravel

the city my own moon

something so unattainable but within my reach, 

not quite within my grasp 

perpetually, forcibly, undesired

 

my future

       my present

             my past

 

my first manhattan breath was tainted 

not only with the tangy black Lincoln exhaust 

or the sharp Marlboro curls

but, with a sentimental sorrow—

how could i miss a place i had never been to

 

 

my second journey felt more like an odyssey

the sirens were calling me and I had to return

 

the morning i left

i let tears escape from my eyes as i thought of 

 

my future

    my present

           my past

 

my mother told me 

with a voice 

so sad,

so hopeful

i hope you find some answers

 

and answers are what i sought

 

my odyssey was

looking into a crystal ball,

expecting to see the future— 

all my hopes and desires and ambitions 

curled into a glimmering haze,

but all i got 

was an empty glass sphere:

an empty feeling,

as i stood, dazed, looking up towards the tallest park avenue building

 

los calles tienen una voz,

una voz que esta llamando a mi

los calles tienen mi vida y mi futura,

pero ahora no se donde voy a ir

no se donde, no se por que 

 

 

i wondered how

i wondered why

i wondered when

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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