Salvador, Joseph, Dad and son: A poem 

There was a world I picked up 

fragments of an ancient scroll 

All those moments fell like raindrops 

I just thought this infallible memory 

gets larger like a rolling snowball 

These are invisible, yet sensational endearments 

to my Joseph, Dad, my eternal 

son and father. Salvador, 

is also saviour. Collaterally, runs in blood, 

in genes, and often in broken streams 

that somehow reinstall the continuum 

The inheritance and legacy  

are a baton that keeps changing hands 

between you and me 

I look at the stars that are slow 

to change, as if their motion was a consistent emotion 

As if this were an enormous hourglass 

with a very slender neck 

We still leave footprints in the sands 

Is it an excavator’s memory 

that he uncovers them again 

in these shifting tectonics of generations?