This is my jacket. It’s torn, with huge holes and it’s old and not worth a penny.
This is the jacket I bought with my hard earned money when I was a teen because mom couldn’t afford it and my dad never bought me a thing. My girlfriend wore it with pride in high school, even if it fit her so huge, she’d swim in. She would wear it because the jacket knew how much I loved her and she loved me.
This is my jacket which could tell you how loud my first born cried upon entering this cold place from the warmth and security of his mother’s womb, 24 years ago as a matter of fact. It’s the first thing my Son saw when he opened his eyes….a big brown jacket.
Also, this same jacket let me wipe my sorrows on its sleeve when I found out my uncle was having an affair with the mother of my kids…my wife. It literally dried my tears as my uncle and her were the most important people in the world to me, after my kids. I died in that jacket, and I was reborn a new person in that jacket.
The jacket was also there flipping in the car with my daughter and I during an accident….for a whole 3 turns from end to end, before it stopped and the car burst into flames. It protected me from the heat coming in thru the firewall as the car was about to be fully inflamed.
This jacket was also there at the birth of Raven, Maddison and Mason. Lately, this raggedy old jacket covered me during cold nights when I was homeless as well. It kept me warm enough to be able to sleep an hour here and there.
This old jacket has seen so much happiness, sadness and emotional extremes, that it bears my same battle scars, except it doesn’t have a soul to hide it in so it shows its wisdom with holes and discoloration, just like my soul.
This is my jacket. It’s torn, with huge holes and it’s old and not worth a penny but you’d have to take it from my cold dead embrace to give it up.
I immigrated to the states from Mexico at age 12 and I quickly fell in love with poetry after my grandfather read some of his poems to me. However, at 18, I had a young family and that left very little time for this endevour as I started working to support us. I returned to adult school to finish my diploma. At that time I developed a severe depression that I still struggle with to this day, but I found it to be a great source of inspiration as well. Today I live in Los Angeles and I'm divorced. I have two children I see whenever possible and two adult kids. Both my Grandfather and his brother are award winning poets and journalists, with one, (Bartolome Delgado DeLeon) having a street, library and a prestigious national poet award in his honor.
Most of my pieces come from personal experience and true to me. Sometimes my material is raw, other times murdeous, and yet other times romantic, but always me, 100% authentic guaranteed.