My biggest currency
Has always been your
Silent belief in me
Grown by the silent resiliency that must’ve came with you on your first flight from Home;
Planted in you in the silence of a widow, needing to because who would’ve if she didn’t.
This tenor in her, you attempted to vibrate onto the three stars and the Sun on
these Hills that housed them,
Surprised that the resolution is never as close as you intended, so your silent belief in us became so loud in me (I only hope)
A reminder that still, it vibrates through City Streets like quakes your kids learned to duck under desks for, growing up in Hills you saved for;
Saving the door frames for the teachers who protects us like cubs under the roof you’ve build over us; Hoping that the affinity to understand respect for the hand the feeds you, the pot that housed you, trickles down the roots you’ve (Both) successfully planted, (In progress)
They’re just not quakes you expected to see after sitting aisle seat always towards horizons heading to happier times to the West;
And always needing to sit through a return trip to what should be happier times to the Westerners.
Always thinking the American Dream is the happier times, like advertised from rose-colored glasses of childhood about the mystics of America;
Not realizing translating between strangers is nothing for 20 years, but no one told you that translating between your expectations and your kids’ deliverance would be the actual hurdle on this side of the Pacific
Don’t get you started on their delusions you can’t ride tides for, plain as day
Delicious delusions don’t seem to translate as realistically to you than it does for those kids; even if you tried.
And the way, although they say one way streets can’t accommodate two, ever – except for that one time you drove into it, like everything you do, head first and stead fast, during your driving test
Reasoning, “the kids gotta get to school”
Even when we don’t see it, when we don’t agree; it’s always the kids Gotta.
(A mantra I try embody fully:
Probably to get protected like cubs by the teachers that helped build those roofs over our brains
I believe now that you only want the best for the kids
With lots to learn still but the best for all of them)
What I’m trying to say is: the vibrations that don’t seem to resonate, after all these years of being Papa
I hope now, the silence is loud;
Loud enough to feel.
I hope the silence is so great and present, presented to you
In the form of a Crescent
Loudly contributing to the sky that you’ve created for me
