Vieques al Atardecer
Vieques al Atardecer Originally uploaded by jps_pr .
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Museum in My Heart By Samaris Ayala A museum, thats what my apartment from childhood resembled It is not unlike my dreams portray. Among the crimson red sofa and wooden bed sets, was the comfort of presence. A presence of history. My childhood no longer has evidence. Places of my life seem to have a coherence of study. Books and needlepoint remain embedded in the small space Temptation to destroy and begin have suffered over the years Always hoping for a new beginning For this reason there is no burial for my brother His home is an altar I create altars where Ive lived Yet it seems to have a birth of livelihood On my own I manage in most risky places People places and things, yet I concentrate on my assignments. I always had a space for a desk and a few books In the museum the books were salvaged for years Then they are lost Yet they are in my imagination We study to forgive Those around me have forgiven Therefore, I too forgive The museum is in my heart NYC-based writer Samaris Ayala ...
