There Were Days

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

There were days

I felt faintly alive.

Those were hard

times. Christmas was a card.

It marked the

end of another year.

Christmas was a

pine tree from the desert.

It stood there

in the house. I was sad.

Adorned with

colorful lights and gifts,

the tree was

dry. It was sad like me.

To cry

was a waste of all my

tears. People

told me I was too young

to feel things

like sadness. What did they

know? They lit

candles for my sadness.

The days changed.

It was a miracle, a

small one that

grew little by little.

Luis lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His poetry, art, and photography has appeared in Black Petals, Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Medusa's Kitchen, Rogue Wolf Press, Venus in Scorpio Poetry Journal, and Yellow Mama Webzine.