by Elvira Diaz-Ocampo...

FRIDA

No one had to explain-
the broken column- the pain
in your eyes- I feel
it every day

Nor the anguish
when you carry your heart
in your hands- bleeding
I too had my Diego- Always
on my mind

I walk- wounds exposed- persecuted
like a wounded deer-not fatally
and that's worse- I suffer
in body, just as you
suffered' til your final days


♦  Poem "Frida," published in 2003 San Jacinto
College Lean Seed Magazine.



FRIDA

Nadie tuvo que explicar-
la columna rota - el dolor
en tus ojos- lo siento
cada dia

Ni la angustia
cuando llevas tu corazon
en tus manos- sangrando
Yo tambien tuve a mi Diego- Siempre
en mi mente

Camino- con las llagas expuestas- persequida
como venadita herida- no muerta
y eso es lo peor- Sufro
en carne propia, haci como tu
sufriste hasta tus ultimos dias

Elvira Diaz Ocampo

MY TIME

Not of my own free will,
but leaving nonetheless
The spirit who breathed life in me
has come to claim it back

A lifeless empty shell-
a feast for creatures yet to come
A beginning or an ending?
No one seems to know
There's no mistake here,
all who come must go

So many heartbeats wasted,
so many sunshines lost,
in all the foolish places,
and all my senseless wants

They're gone and lost forever
Regrets are useless now
I'd count the precious moments
but it's my time to go

Elvira Diaz Ocampo

CYCLES

The old oak tree's leaves fall
In the autumn sun across the yard
where I can still see my children playing
around its mighty trunk.  Their laughter
takes me to a different time
when the oak tree was a seedling trying
to sprout branches

Through the years it grew tall and full
The children stopped their foolish laughter,
taking refuge under the ample shade-
They'd lay their blankets
and lean for hours against
the jagged bark.  It knew
the secrets and sadnesses they never told me

Now the tree is failing,
its branches thin, grow weaker
every day.  The children are gone
and have children of their own
Still, these lowered branches throw shadows
across the grass, dancing
to the slow music of another dusk,
another autumn

Elvira Diaz Ocampo

THE WHOLE ENCHILADA

Living in America- the whole enchilada,
multi-colored faces, a mixture of races,
culturally diverse, united in a land of abundance,
each dancing in rhythm to the beat of a different drum

Chile caliente, American as apple pie,
hot blooded latin lovers, hot dogs at the ball park
Playing rock-n-roll- cantando con mariachi,
speaking a romantic language, bailando salsa,
these multi-colored faces, a mixture of races,
each dancing in rhythm to the beat
of a different drum

Elvira Diaz Ocampo

SERENADE

Wind chimes sway- shimmering in the
sunlight- a blanket of green covers
the landscape - Birds chirp in tune
with the sweet melody

A calmness falls- silencing the melody-
carrying a woman's prayer-
kneeling- sorting through  
the wilted flowers- I can almost hear
her teardrops

In the distance- a circle of love
hands held- heads bowed- resting
nearby a man sits- head on his knees-
whispering laments - floating
through the air

Laughter breaks the stillness-
as children gleefully weave
between the endless rows- blissfully
alive- their endless chatter echos
in the hollowed ground

Trying to Respect- I carefully make my way
towards the all- familiar purple plastic
flowers- your favorite color.

Clutching a bouquet- awkwardly
standing- wondering if you can hear
my regrets- consumed by our inevitable
mortality - I almost forget
to breathe- quickly inhaling
the musty smell of clouds gathering

Raindrops sprinkle my face- shedding
tears- I quickly run for shelter,
as the wind chimes once again-
resume their serenade- a serenade
held to a captive audience  

Elvira Diaz Ocampo