The Light

The Light

by Justine Camacho-Tajonera

For Kenneth

As we sang your anthem, one morning,
you noticed that the Clock Tower was dark.
You quietly left our side
and turned on the light.

Beside us. That's where we
want you to stay. We want to
hear your steady voice telling us
everything will be
okay.

But you need to turn a light
on. Elsewhere. And so,
quietly, you watch us stand
on our own, the way
you taught us.

We'll keep the light burning
for you. That's what we'll do.
There will be no corner
in the shadows. You
make each of us
shine.

After December

After December

by Justine Camacho-Tajonera

For Mich

Your smile was our home,
we could find any corner in it
and bask in its warmth.
It was the key to our doors,
the first hand we held in an
unfamiliar place.
We have our bearings now
because of you.

We would not keep you
from new shores
but we are grateful
that you stayed a while.
After December,
the better world we build,
piece by piece,
will have a memory
of you.

The Man in the Suit

The Man in the Suit

by Justine Camacho-Tajonera

For Rudy

You do it with ease. A hundred
phone calls a day is a snap
for the man in the suit. There's
always a quip that's waiting to
be shared in the corners of
your smile.

It seems that everyone knows
you. Well that's because you make
it easy. There's always space to
breathe whenever you are around.
And just like your boys, if anyone
asks, we'll tell them we, every one
of us, own this city
of ours.

Open Door

Open Door

by Justine Camacho-Tajonera

for Ricky

We never really need to knock,
not with you. At the threshold,
you take the burden in our
hands and tell us we carry it
together. Mountains level
because of your smile, because
you say, "Come this way."
And we would go there
because you say
we can.

The door will never really close,
not with you. That's who you
are. Your gentleness makes
us all strong.
You told us a story once.
About choosing to mind
the things that should not
break. We take that with us
when we tend to children's
dreams.