Poems – “There Was No Love”

“THERE WAS NO LOVE”
by Edgar Alejandro Ybarra

The frame of reference formed early on and the world was nothing but bright for the first 6 years.
Then the violence.
The child couldn’t figure what he had done, what his crime had been. But there was,
The violence.
World shattered, one beat down day after day in a prison of 8 years.
Year after year, he was taught that God would avenge him, but it seemed… God never did.
And for those years, there was no love.
Only the violence.

And in a world that he was to taught to love, expected to love, taught to care about it did not make sense
that it treated him so cruel. There where the parole hearings, but only the motions to go through.
there was to be no mercy for him.
Only the violence.

Little in stature, he did what he could. But they where too strong.
Battered, bruised and bloodied outside and worse
broken on the inside, he screamed to the heavens, a cry for mercy, a cry for change.
He heard his scream, but his keepers only heard that he needed a pat on the head, a smile and a empty
promise of protection: “don’t worry, God will punish them…”
But where God should have been, there was no God
Only the violence.

The Violence that was given the blind eye, the deaf ear.
Till the child fought back, shaking in angry trauma and beneath that, only hurt.
Hurt the system then demonized for having fought back. “Bad boy” they said.
how could this be? Suddenly he the Vilan? the bad guy? But they, the institution in it’s comfortable silence
when the child had become the play thing of the children of kings and queens
They pay off from the royal families to the institution must have been great. Especially after the institution itself
had been caught in the laundering. It kept on catering to the sons and daughters of the royal families
who appreciated nothing, nothing in their hearts, hearts that provided the boy
Only the violence.

The recess hour was the reason power existed for only short whiles
when so many miles where set free on a BMX bike you see
or escaping to a tree house family.

The childhood should have produced a hood in the child but it didn’t. Not in comparison to the greatness
the child ended up being. Despite a child hood of
Only the violence
that eventually ended.
And then a long road of healing and relearning
what should have been learned so long before the arrested development.

There is good in the world. It’s apparent now.
There is Love in the world. It’s apparent now.

But where there should have been light and happiness
There was no love.

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Thank you for supporting us, please come back every for a new poem and share this site.          -Edgar Ybarra.

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Poems – “10 thousand miles to go”

The desert wasteland that lead to the ocean was barren, nothing in sight for who know how long.  I stood beside the teacher and asked him, “now what”?

He took our sorroundings in for a moment be fore begining to walk.  Not a word from him though.  ”where are we going?” I asked.  ”You don’t know?” he asked me.  I replied  that I did not.  That I had no Idea.  ”Then why did you even begin to walk with me if you don’t know where we’re going?”
It was more than obvious, “because we couldn’t just, well, stay there… we have to go somewhere”
“But what if you don’t know where you’re going” he asked.
The silence gave way to the slight breeze and our feet crunching away, step after step.
I had a great answer and blurted out “well I’ll think of where I’d like to go, based on what I like”.
The teacher was qick to comment, “so you know what you like”.  Of Coarse I did and told him so.
“Good start” he said.

Some time passed and the sun had set.  The desert was unforgiving but we pressed on, though I never heard a sound from him outside of our dialogue.  Though, sometimes in the silence I imagined hearing his voice when I let mine rest.

“I have a question , the teacher asked.  ”What happens if when you get tired, everyone gets tired now and again.  What happens though, when you reach the point at which you simply can’t go on?”  Of coarse I was quick to tell him that “first I’d stop and rest, I’d definitely have to rest.  Everyone needs to rest”.  I could tell the teacher wanted me to continue, despite never having looked him in the eyes as we walked.  ”Then I’d get back up and keep going”.  ”Why not just stay there and rest longer?” he asked.  ”Well everyone needs to rest but if I don’t get back up, how else will I eventually get to where I want to go?”

“And what if you fell and injured yourself”.  Silence, footsteps and our rhythmic breathing.  ”I’d want to see why I fell, to watch out for that same rock in the road, or whatever it may have been”  ”So you’d want to learn why you fell, heal yourself and then keep on going?” he asked.  ”Yes, there’s only learning from it to avoid it happening again.

Silence.  Breathing.  A soft breeze.  Dusk.  Kept to myself, but then had to ask, “when will we get there?”  He was peaceful in his response despite his discoloration and sweating brow.  ”So you really wan’t to get there?  This is important to you I imagine”.  ”Of coarse”.  He didn’t think about it too much more when he responded, “get to your destination, but that will only happen when you first focus on the journey, focus on always continuing after a little rest, focus on never staying down after you’ve fallen.  It’s a long way.  It WILL NOT be easy.  It’s a long way, and you WILL get there, but first remember to focus on the journey”
We kept on walking…  into the darkness now.

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Thank you for supporting us, please come back every for a new poem and share this site.          -Edgar Ybarra.

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