Psalm of D.F. Alcala

Where there was once only youth,

There is now wisdom far beyond my years.

I have never seen a righteous man forsaken,

Nor a wild thing sorry for itself‒‒

However, once upon a time…

There was a deafblind boy with a dream,

Living a life of smoke and mirrors.

His face wears a smile;

His reality mimics Job’s.

If ignorance is bliss,

Behold the quiet liar;

Behalf his seeing sister,

Hearing Ms. and Mr.

Half-hearted relief

Turns dis-ease.

Half-ounce of trees

Turns ounce of peace.

Funeral after funeral,

Another R.I.P.

How ironic the boy’s best memory

Is smiling on a beautiful, vibrant beach

Where he buried his dream,

Baptized himself, and DIED.

I wonder if that boy died,

From feeling sorry for himself.