The Reason For My Suffering Poem by Louie Vizcarra

I looked at the reason for my suffering
defiant, brutal, overbearing
high in the sky, glaring down at me like an angry eye.
Exhausted by the heat
I cast a passing glance at the blinding fireball,
curse it, despise it, but also love it
cherish it
because it is the last thing connecting us besides memories.
Do we both see the same sun?
Does it shine its light on us both?
Do we watch the same sun set over the horizon?
Because sometimes I see sunsets
and hope with all my might
that you are seeing the same thing
so we can be connected again, even if only for a few moments.
The distance between us is wider than the pacific
we've lost all contact and sight
so why must one last enemy taunt me?

Time blows by like a tornado, out of control
but I'm stuck in the middle of the vortex.
From the inside looking out, seeing flashing images
mist, vapor, fleeting scenes..
Noticing time progressing but not feeling it
wondering what happened.

I stepped outside of myself
wondering how my world changed from cold to hot
without me noticing
because my conscious and my subconscious melt together.
Suddenly im startled, and realize its not winter anymore
but didn't I already know that?
Bewildered, I look in the mirror
wasn't my face just wind burnt and not tanned?
Life and time speed on. The sun blisters my jungle
but my ice is too cold to melt. I'm November, January, March
living in July.
I'm an old soul lost on a mountain
Missouri is too far away to exist.

I wonder
how you and I became so separated
(we didn't run in opposite directions until you were the north pole
and I was the south)
how I now see things through different eyes
and how my blue backpack with yellow stars isn't the same one I wore.
My work coat never had your hair in it
Motorcycle Driveby isn't the same song
because I measure time by you too
"before I saw your ugly face in pershing"
"after your crusty lips traced my jaw line"
or
"before your scaly reptilian hands with long hooked claws
were joined with mine."

Old weathered eyes from a bridgetop in Easley
cast their gaze across a sea
wondering about life on the other side
contemplating the mysteries of time and space
why you and I occupy the same Spacetime
why our paths crossed over subway
and why oily words sizzling hot can fall on my skin
from your lips, and burn and blister
leaving wounds and scars so deep that no ointment can soothe
and why your name and face are stamped onto my heart
nailed and bonded by fire and iron-
it cant ever be undone.

I continue to wonder.
I snatch up the crystal ball and shake it, searching for a sign
gazing into the blue
assuring it that I'm here to stay
opening up the door and letting the promises fall like a torrential rain.
Our seed had no soil to grow root
our flowers never blossomed, our fruit never ripened
because you stood upstream and dammed up the current
while netting the fish and throwing them downstream to die on the dry riverbed.