(For my cousin Delia Tariman-Quintal)
You don’t know
What sorrow is
Until you feel the anguish
Of a cousin fighting for her life.
The last time I saw her
I rushed to her place
After checking in
The island airport
With half an hour left
After I returned the island piano
To a nearby hospital
After an island concert.
She was in tears
After losing a husband
She had loved
All throughout her married life.
We shared
A formidable island life
Running through the sand
A picnic around the coastal islet
And fetching drinking water
In a nearby spring
Below a mountain range.
To be helpless
When she needed quick relief;
I remember staring at her
Disconsolate
As I shared her grief
For a few moments
Pining for happy days
With her late husband.
Later
She reminded me,
‘Go back to airport
You might miss your flight.’
That’s how small the island is
Because you can still go
And quickly see
Your loved ones
Before the plane
Goes back to the big city.
I don’t know
What to say
Pondering her fate
As she struggles
To hang on to earthly life.
To be sure
We have shared a good deal
Of island life.
We have shared storms
Floods and landslides
And tidal waves.
You figure out her fate
As you contemplate your own.
True
Our generation is quickly
Passing by
As I recall how our parents
Left us one after the other.
When our time is up
I remember that dike by the sea
The school by the sea
Paddling a fishing boat
With my late departed
Then very young daughter
Listening to a tenor
Rhapsodizing
‘Come back to Sorrento.’
We have lived separate lives
But always
We are together in moments
Of celebrations
And imminent loss.
Nevertheless
I pray for a miracle
That she is given extended life
In this our desperate season
Of the scourge.
But then she is fated
To leave this earthly life.
Cousins are forever
In life and sorrow
After a cycle of life
In the happy island.
* * *