I stand before you
searching for the right words.
Like embers–
they travel up my body,
through my heart,
and cannot escape
–my lips.

They disappear in remembrance.
I stare at a blank page,
constantly trying to form a sentence,
a line,
an image or memory that warms from within
and I cannot.

This is your eulogy.
Un canto sin letras.
Una memoria

Like smoking shells falling by the dozens

A wish for freedom–
That I could help you escape fate with my grief.

A wish for immortality–
That we could understand the path we must take.

We learn to live.
before death comes in,
like the weeping willow of the world,
to shade,
to illuminate,
with its branches of despair,
with its rustling leaves of discontent.

But in its sorrow–

This is your eulogy.
Un rosario sin fin.
Un retrato sin ti.

Manifested in great peace.
For we recall
a time when we were young,
when there was love
–and we begin to live.

David López

David López is a queer chicano writer from Santa Ana, CA. He earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Screenwriting from Chapman University, a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing and Writing for the Performing Arts from University of California, Riverside and a Master of Library & Information Science degree from San José State University. His writing has appeared in The Orange County Register, OC Weekly, Connotation Press, Brooklyn & Boyle, and La Bloga. He currently works as a librarian in Orange County, CA.


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