Ellie belfiglio

When I hear this sound that awakens me, intimidating its way into my cloistered night, I write…



For you my little brother, who died in my arms…


The only one cry between us

Unfolds into uniting hands

Into the bottomless of mountain

Or the grand, precious river

Or the full moon, where the gloominess of your eye

Evoke us for a union so rare

Where we dive into depth of each other’s eyes

Or treasure every second of this great show!


For our existence is the sparkle that compose

The sweetness of our hands to reach

A friend, so close, so dear, and so far.

And we set our feet on the solid of the earth

Where the only awareness is the feeling of the other

And the resistance we both share.

How is it for us with this love

Where we see the other’s heart not the body?

And you, my sweet brother, who’s lost the zest for life!

And when we cry for the union
It is a painful, fierce cry! First cry!! ...

Author: elliebelfiglio

I am a professor, a poet, an author, and an immigrant. I am the survival of many political and economical hardship. As a political immigrant, it took me a long time to master the English language and to come to terms that I can never see my family again. "THE PARTING FROM MY FAMILY WAS THE BEGINNING OF A FRIENDSHIP THAN THE END OF OUR FRIDAYS!" My autobiography, "THE RAIN STOPS IN TEXAS" was published in 1997 by Eakin Press. It can be found in Amazon. As Ernest Hemingway says, write about something you know, most of my novels are about cultural difference of the old and new and American style of living compare to my home country. My poetry are in all forms. I write as they come to me. My first draft is always my last draft. "THIS IS MY WORLD, WELCOME!" "THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE!"

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