When My Own Time Comes Along... Poem by RIC BASTASA

papa did not like
me
sewing my own
torn
pants

i know what
he meant
when he mentioned
how Nong Tiago
died
alone in his room
abandoned
by his wife and
two children

i do not like
Papa exactly but
i cannot say
that as a son
i do not love him

he died after
Mama succumbed to
diabetes
afraid that her next
leg would
be cut

when Papa got sick
as he did not like
to eat his favorite
soup anymore
he removed all those
attached surviving
gadgets in his
emaciated body

we were not around
when he died
so we did not really
know what
he wanted
though we were told
he mumbled a lot of
words
in hysteria

my brother threw stones
at him when
they quarreled
and i disliked such
a primitive
war along the lines
of genetic
differences

when my sister got
pregnant
she did not want to
marry the man
she wanted abortion
but we finally
decided to keep the
boy for
our own peaceful
village existence

there were so many
conflicts
so many misunderstandings
that finally
we decided not to mind
them

then one by one
they die
and faithfully we
offer flowers
money and prayers

i am so numb
and hardened and
i know i will feel
no pain
when my own time
comes along.