My Father Is a Simple Man

Luis Omar Salinas

I walk to town with my father

to buy a newspaper. He walks slower

than I do so I must slow up.

The street is filled with children.

We argue about the price

of pomegranates, I convince

him it is the fruit of scholars.

He has taken me on this journey

and it's been lifelong.

He's sure I'll be healthy

so long as I eat more oranges,

and tells me the orange

has seeds and so is perpetual;

and we too will come back

like the orange trees.

I ask him what he thinks

about death and he says

he will gladly face it when

it comes but won't jump

out in front of a car.

I'd gladly give my life

for this man with a sixth

grade education, whose kindness

and patience are true . . .

The truth of it is, he's the scholar,

and when the bitter-hard reality

comes at me like a punishing

evil stranger, I can always

remember that here was a man

who was a worker and provider,

who learned the simple facts

in life and lived by them,

who held no pretense.

And when he leaves without

benefit of fanfare or applause

I shall have learned what little

there is about greatness.

Mother to Son

Langston Hughes

Well, son, I'll tell you:

Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

It's had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor --

Bare.

But all the time

I'se been a-climbin' on,

And reachin' landin's,

And turnin' corners,

And sometimes goin' in the dark

Where there ain't been no light.

So boy, don't you turn back.

Don't you set down on the steps

'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.

Don't you fall now --

For I'se still goin', honey,

I'se still climbin',

And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

p/s: lately byk monolog diri.