Day one, first tear.
Day two, come here.
Day three, sink in.
Day four, reality shock.
Day five, lost mind.
Day six, let's end this.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

My Father's mother wrote me a check
And though she has a checkbook
with her name on it
From four years ago,
She sent me the decadent sum
of twenty-five dollars
On a slip of paper with a name
that was of her husband,
My Father's Father,
And still is.

When I look at this check pinned to my wall
I am reminded of the man,
The eighteen-wheeling man,
And how a few years ago I was afraid
and unamused
So I did not peek into his open casket.

It was a year since I had seen him,
And 'goodbye' escaped my lips (which were sealed
incredibly) until he was lowered.

I hope he went to heaven; if he did not
I am sure I will say 'hello'
After I cash this check,
But not yet.

Four Directions, there are, for you to perceive.
Four Directions, at the center there is me.
If I could see in Four Directions, no one could see me..

If I could only see in Four Directions, I truly would be free.
Four Directions, creating space around me.
Four Directions, if I could only see..

If I could see in Four Directions, I would be you and you would be me.
Four Directions, we could trade and see, what it would be like
to perceive Four Directions,

If we could only see..

I.    the end of life;
      that which was always fated
      shocks us, even still

II.  the passing of time;
      we can never comprehend
      our frail existence

III. the creative soul;
      we must, with earnest ink,
      make every word count

IV. the end of an era;
      it is but a beginning
      of something much more

are you still here?
if so,
why haven't you said anything?

it's been four years
six months
and eleven days

i talk to you,
you know?
every night.

do you hear me?