A Faithful Friend

A Faithful Friend long poem

Photo by Jeffrey Duran

How can i thank
A most faithful friend
Who by my side
Has always been

Who’s never judged
Nor left my side
Everyday together
But left at night

This friend whose name
I never knew
Who never spoke
This friend was true

How can i thank
This true great friend
Who my life has followed
From the beginning till the end

My dear true friend
Of whom i knew so little
Uncovering his past
Was like an unsolvable riddle

I’ve tried and tried
With no avail
Remember how we met
When? and where?

But then with time
When life got slower
A young man no more
But Much wise and older

I knew that my true friend
Who forever stood by me
That when i die and go away
My true friend..again I’d never see

My friend who never left my side
You to have a friend like me
Who goes away at night
And only in the day you’ll  see

How can i Thank you my true friend
Who has no name and most don’t know
That the friend I thank so much..
Is simply my shadow

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Rick Zerimar Barba

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"I am an artist by heart..a businessman by necessity"I grew up in South Central Los Angeles on the Florence/Firestone district. Which at one time in the 90's was considered a war zone by U.N. Standards for having over 500 homicides in the district. I lived under Marshall Law during the L.A. Riots and witnessed anarchy.Raised by a single mother with a second grade education. And Sadly, at the age of 38 I've attended more funerals than weddings.Yes! I lived in poverty... My father was an alcholic and would hit my mom. Mostly all of my childhood friends got into gangs and most are in prison for life. I've had guns pointed at me...first time was at the age of 13. I've e been shot at on 3 occasions in my teens by gang members...i never "gang banged"....my mother i am sure wouldn't have approved..lol.Also at the age of 14, I witnessed death one night when  man was gunned down 100 yards from me. I ran to him and saw him faced down...dying. Then became a suspect that night when a lady said i was the one that shot him.i guess because i was the first one there...and mistreated by the Sherrifs. But luckily, the deceased man's friend came back..he had a large bullet hole in his belly and told the deputies that it wasn't me.But sadly that wasn't the last time I witnessed death. Countless more I came sadly came to see.But I'm sure others, from the ghetto, the hood, or our soldiers in war have seen much worse.I don't share this for pitty. But to say that these experiences made me value family...not money. Value life...shocking how easy a life can be taken away. So I focused on my art, my writting and education to get away. I am the only person from all my friends that has a degree. And they all truly look up at me. But poverty, violence and the death I'd seen... Made me realize how important that it was for me. To better... to be stronger. And to achieve my dream!I am now a Financial Advisor for a top firm. But still and forever through my art..my paintings..my poetry..my songs...i will continue to express or share these experiences...these emotions."An Artist by heart. A businessman by necessity!."I am going to write a poem in the next few days about this story that i just shared.I think i will title it:"There were three pointed back at me!"Rick
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2 Comments on "A Faithful Friend"

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David Bokolo
Member

You’re a true friend to yourself; for you never leave yourself. And so our shadow glued to us. Nice poem, Barba.

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