My Eight Lives

Of the first of my eight lives
I do not miss
children made to witness
of wars the insanity
made to leave as adolescents
the lands where they were born
family and friends
with a lump on their throat
traveling on a foreign boat

Of the second I do not miss
the task
insurmountable
to make it
in a culture totally foreign
with new language thought and mores
never forgetting how much had to fight
for to succeed
one had to achieve double scores

During his third life
and in just seven years
the ignorant teenager that I was
a college professor grew up to be
all in spite of the insuperable environment
and only obtainable by giving up
much of contentment

On the forth
a voice that was so loud
against of wars the vanity
and their insanity
for forty one years strongly was heard
while the satisfaction of a real life
with a family to be proud
was not totally allowed

The fifth one
I cannot miss either
even if becoming a traveler
a singer
and a music lover
and never getting tired
of doing it over

Until on the sixth
the spring chatter of the leaves
was overtaken
by the oppressive dark thunder
of solitude and abandonment
void of the hope for atonement
How could I
miss that?

The seventh life
care free and unleashed
took me slowly to what I wished:
responsibilities grew
as fast as morning dew
further education
with subsequent publication
for sure generated
more professional satisfaction

And during the eighth
the joy of a new larger family happened
Wonderful new horizons opened up
with some ups and downs
to be expected
duly faced daily
with adjustments
rightly made fully

Rewinding back to my early days
of horrific hardships
and overwhelming pain
I find them now hard to miss
But I sure miss the precious fruits they engendered
Thus if I give it another little thought
I must admit they all were really stages of an entire life
and I miss them all without a doubt under my coat