Into The Garden Of My Mind.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

I STILL remember vividly
a memory of Mama, when we
were in Clarin and Papa
was nowhere, as usual, and
i was standing by the window
of an old house that grandma
left for her,

i still remember vividly
how Mama walked down the stairs
and proceeded to the garden
where calachuchi flowers bloom
where most of these flowers
after that last night's storm
fell to the ground,

where she gathered each
white calachuchi flower and
had each sewn to make a wreath
for grandmother's grave
who dies years ago
when we visited Clarin where
the old house strongly
stood

i still remember vividly
how Mama was happier when left alone
away from the chaos of a conjugal feud,
away from her nosy neighbors,
inside a garden where colors and shapes
and scents combine to create her
a world
much different from where she
had once plunged
into despair,

and i watched her then
as though
i, too, being indifferent and
estranged, started to feel that
i am on my own,
isolated,
and
ready to walk into another
garden in my mind.