Miguel Angel Solis
By R. Cary
Her image, so acutely elegant. I can see her in it. All of her I see.
The grace of how her soul touches her sincerities and sensitivities.
The purpose in her eyes. I can see the beauty in her self-reflection.
Her self-portrait definitive in her self-belief. Mesmerized, I can only
Stare. My eyes, no, my soul feels attached. The depth of clarity in
Each stroke of paint speaks to me. The more I stare, the nearer
I become. Was this her intention, a work of art that consumes
Its audience, as if this woman is living, seeking to touch me.
Seeking to let me know who she is. I can’t help but look
Deeper. I can’t help but inch forward. In this moment.
This is my reality. My truth. This woman. This portrait.
Who is she? I become to feel my heart throb. I begin
To have memories of my own life unfold beginning to
Remember what broke my soul when she was gone
From me at such a young age. Ana, we were born to
Each other. But she was gone from me. I never got to
See her grow, to give her care when she needed it.
To give her love she needed it. To be there for her
When she met her love, to bear children of her own.
This, my life with Ana was never meant to be. Closer,
I feel this painting. This painting as a part of me, a part
Of my history. Each stroke now in detail as I gaze over
Each ripple of the paint. I gently scroll over the corner,
As my eyes render upon the name, ‘Ana Solis’. This
Cannot be! My Ana? Where have you been? I prayed
For you. I begged to see you once again pouring my
Heart into my hands. I tried so many times. To find you
In the heavens. To hope you walked this earth in one
Form or another. I tried so hard. I failed you, every day;
I failed you. Looking up, thinking this cannot be, the title;
‘Father, It Is Me’, A Self-Portrait By Ana Solis, daughter
Of Miguel Angel Solis. I yell, I scream, but no one can
Hear me. I look down. I cannot move. My legs are made
Of rock. My legs are burning of fire. My hands are reaching
For the heavens. I am stuck in this form carved out of stone
Staring at my daughter. A self-portrait. Underneath my feet I
Read, ‘Death of a father’, A Piece On Suicide and Purgatory.
Staring at this painting, a self-portrait by Ana Solis. Daughter
Of Miguel Angel Solis. Forever to live in his own hell, forever.
End
Miguel Angel Solis
By R. Cary
Copyright 2020
Poetry & Prose By R. Cary 