An Unamed Poem

(Based on the true story of my uncle, whose father was a Cuban political prisoner, came to Miami and recently, passed away)

We meet out of season, out of time.
You couldn’t wait for me, or
I didn’t make it on time.
For those 20 years in prison,
I evoked you each day.
Did nothing but to tell,
about your ideals and dreams,
while you lacked up in a cell,
wrote and remembered me.
I grew up visiting you on Sundays.
I grew up without a dad.
Once released, I lost you again.
And this time was to the exile.
I grew up some more.
I became a father,
but remained your son.
And before I could see you,
before your time and mine,
you had to leave me again.
I didn’t have my chance,
to make it up to you,
to see you one last time.

I scream.
I grieve.
I hurt.
I can’t explain why I cry.
One,
Two,
Three,
Four days pass by
and I get it.
I might finally understand.
What hurts me the most is the unspoken.
What pains me is the unlived.