I finally finished reading Zarzamora by Vincent Cooper, who I met on Instagram. I ordered his book but had to take it easy because the content is heavy. I cried a lot reading about his life.
It was amazing to see how every poem painted a larger picture of the neighborhood he lived in and the people that were in his life. It felt like I had been transported to his memories. It felt like I knew his uncle’s well.
I related especially to the letters that his uncle wrote to him from prison just because I also have an incarcerated family member. There’s a longing and grief that never leaves me and the grief is especially felt when I read my cousins letters, messages, or talk to her on the phone.
Cooper’s poems also reminded me of the place that I used to call home. Some good memories came up for me which has been rare. Of course no family or home is perfect so there were definitely moments of anger and grief.
Como cambia las cosas bien rapido. I also wrote down my favorite lines and pages.
I dreamt of writing a poetry book about my home but moving back tainted the good memories and I don’t feel well when I reflect on everything that has happened.
Maybe I’ll be ready to write about it one day but for now, I look forward to living in the present.
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