sorry

i’m sorry

i beg you

on my knees

with my hands in the air

tears flooding down my face

beating my chest with my fists

mea culpa mea culpa

I take everything back

I regret everything

i’ve ever said and done

on all fours, look

bashing my head on the rocks

blood running hot

I wish myself dead

I question why

i was even born

I’m crying out  to never exist again

please

because that’s what it is to be sorry

and never want to be sorry again

Like this poem?  Buy my poetry/photography eBooks at:
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna 

and share this poem and link with friends and family.

Gracias!

Ricardo

las manos de mi padre

father's hands
caked with dirt,
maps with tiny roads of blood
from splinters and metal edges,
burned in the sun,
frozen in the warehouse,
scented with:

tomates,
calabazas (squash),
pepinos (cucumbers),
sandías (watermelons),
mangos,
jalapeños,
aguacates (avocados),
berenjenas (eggplant),
melones,
cerezas (cherries),
limones,
uvas (grapes),
 

and other produce you and I have eaten without knowing by whose hand we have been fed

If you like this poem, please buy my eBooks at:
https://www.amazon.com/author/writeracuna 

and/or share this poem with friends and family who would be interested.

Gracias!

Ricardo