(A Prose Poem)
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She will come to me . . . not being incarnated;
She will not appear in her own image;
I see and feel her voluble spirit,
and I also see her sans arguments, or advice
in the resonance of her heart upon mine.
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She comes to me in an endless flow of memories quieting her absence.
You return to me in every heartbeat . . .
There is no light nor shadow, nor color nor texture.
There is no pain in the embrace of uncertainty.
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Our coexistence ceases to exist;
the rancor of fear departs as the idea takes us in.
Pain turns silent, emptied of guilt and regret.
Though your lungs exhale not,
I feel the breath of your longing in search of union.
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I understand better your inexorable faith,
with no sting of doubt.
Resentment held no place, the frankness of your soul loved everything.
I feel you in my chest, tight with not seeing you
I see you in the resonance of your mind upon mine.
*
Pain shatters my chest,
I am dying as well,
I fear the very meanness of not accepting
your dignified and glorious absence.
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How can one ponder eternal love
without knowing eternity,
I do not understand and tears choke me.
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Eternity is a story we tell ourselves
from our first appearance.
Before, we were nothing
and nothingness impregnated us with clumsiness
to create stories that console our finitude.
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We are nothing,
and to nothing we return.
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I believe in the goddess of love
for she sustains me,
but immortality and eternity do not depend on her.
Abstraction is a pretense that believes it heals itself.
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Confuse reality not with abstraction,
if you know nothing;
unconsciousness is soaked in the unjustifiable.
Contradiction is the palpable reality,
Humility and neutrality do not exist:
and are not controllable.
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Intelligence is a tool of fiction.
We are nothing.
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Words of comfort ruminate me and my feelings,
they assume compassion for filling the void
Yet compassion, like humility, can
not boast of itself.
They come from nothing
and are nothing.
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The feelings of death arise in old age,
our fragility is tangible.
“If newly born, what do you know of old age?”
How can we boast … even if for the best of reasons!
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Words can evoke the void of silence,
yet they remain a pretense.
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Silence is deeper than declarations.
Listen to silence, filled with nothingness.
Yet, an energy that’s unchangeable, immutable.
Persistence is yet another vanity,
a desire to accumulate the unsustainable.
Parallels are paradoxical, yet real.
*
Ricardo Federico Morín Tortolero,
Oakland Park, Fl. 5:00 am, 3 de Feberero de 2025
Edited by Billy Bussell Thompson
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(A Poem written by our mother, María Teresa Tortolero Rivero, English translation by this author, and read by Andreina in Spanish)
GREATNESS YOU BESTOWED UPON MY SPIRIT
[July 1979]
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Greatness you bestowed upon my spirit
for the whole world rests upon my bosom
though in sadness I stray
in vain attempts to redeem my heart.
As pariah in a desert
in my migrant existence
I feel the prick of painful thorns.
and the corrosive doubt of uncertainty.
My home’s encumbered by the punching of loneliness
only absence occupies it.
Why have you forsaken me?
Why so much cruelty?
If born to love
when for love’s sake
I wish to be faithful.
*
In Memoriam Andreina Teresa
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We, the Morín Tortolero siblings: Alberto José, Ricardo Federico, María Teresa, and José Galdino, deeply regret to announce to our family and friends the heartfelt passing of our beloved sister
ANDREINA TERESA MORÍN TORTOLERO
November 10, 1955 – February 2, 2025
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The wake was held at Funeraria Tendencia Ecológica, located in the Las Acacias neighborhood in Valencia, next to the CICPC, on Monday, February 3, 2025, at 12:00 PM.
The funeral service took place at the Puertas al Cielo crematorium, located in La Entrada, Naguanagua, on Tuesday, February 4, 2025. The Novena is held at Valencia’s El Viñedo Church starting on February 5th at 4:30 pm.
We are grateful for your support and prayers during this time of deep sorrow.
Observations On Perception 
February 3, 2025 at 3:12 am |
Beautiful ♥️
October 30, 2025 at 8:00 pm |
Thank you Caleb. May life bring joy to you and your love ones. We must celebrate each other at all times.
February 3, 2025 at 11:28 am |
Dearest Ricardo and family,
I am so very sorry for the loss of your sister. 3 years ago, I lost my brother and he is always with me as Andreina will always be with you. I will keep you in my prayers.
With deepest sympathy,
Linda Richman
February 5, 2025 at 4:56 am |
Dear Linda,
Your kind and heartfelt words mean so much to me during this difficult time. I am deeply sorry for your loss as well—there is a profound and unbreakable bond between siblings that transcends time and absence. Knowing that Andreina will always be with me, just as your brother remains with you, brings a measure of comfort amidst the sorrow.
Thank you for your prayers and for sharing your compassion with me and my family. Your sympathy and warmth are truly felt and appreciated.
With gratitude and affection,
Ricardo
October 30, 2025 at 7:58 pm |
Dear Linda,
Your message brought me great solace. Its kindness and quiet strength reached me at a moment when words were difficult to find. Your compassion reflects a courage that inspires all who know you—a grace that remains steady even when life brings hardship.
The memory of your own loss makes your sympathy all the more meaningful. Your understanding reminds me that love endures beyond absence, that those we cherish remain with us in ways that transcend distance and time.
With heartfelt gratitude and affection,
Ricardo
February 5, 2025 at 4:52 am |
That night—the day after my sister’s passing—I gathered myself and embraced the opportunity to have dinner with friends from Bala Cynwyd. In doing so, we deepened meaningful and authentic bonds, even as I acknowledged the grief I was carrying.
With a lemon drop martini before the meal and a glass of Cabernet during dinner (complementing the lingering effects of a daytime THC gummy) I found myself pleasantly loquacious without being excessive.
The evening unfolded as one of the most unexpectedly charming and profoundly genuine moments in recent memory.
February 5, 2025 at 8:28 pm |
Dearest Ricardo,
thank you for letting us participate in your grief and thoughts. Let me refer to Renée Fleming: Your sister was not the “Last rose of summer”, even if it will not be possible “to reflect back her blushes and give sigh for sigh”. No, you´ll never leave her in her eternal sleep. You lost a “gem from loves shining circle”, but it´s your chance to keep this circle and the memory of your sisters warmth and nearness -we hope for many years.
With deep compassion
Karlheinz
February 5, 2025 at 8:52 pm |
Dear Karlheinz,
Your words resonate deeply with me, and I am profoundly grateful for your kindness and the eloquence of your message. Renée Fleming’s rendition of Thomas Moore’s “The Last Rose of Summer” carries a bittersweet elegance, and your reference to it transcends the limits of language.
Though Andreina is no longer physically present, as you so beautifully expressed, her essence remains within the unbroken circle of love and memory. Her warmth, spirit, and the bond we shared will continue to illuminate our lives, undiminished by time or distance.
Thank you for your compassion and for reminding me that, even in the face of loss, there is continuity—an enduring connection that transcends the boundaries of time and space.
With gratitude and warmth,
Ricardo
February 5, 2025 at 9:15 pm
Andreina shaped my life in countless ways; her struggles were my own. I would have done anything to ease her burden, yet suffering defies measure: a reminder that the cycle of life, however painful, carries its own justification. Peace finds us eventually, though rarely when we seek it.
Acceptance is difficult, and grief cuts deep, yet I trust that time will soften its edges. The lessons of love will return, guiding us toward resilience in the face of life’s trials and teaching us to embrace the fleeting beauty of existence.
Love, unfailing and eternal, will find its way back to me—with an indelible smile of the soul and heart.
October 30, 2025 at 7:52 pm |
Dear Karlheinz,
Your words have remained with me since I first read them after publishing The Language of Silence. I carried them quietly, as one carries something precious, until now—when I feel the need to thank you openly for the wisdom and empathy they held.
Your message was a sober reminder of remembrance and love, especially in the shadow of my sister’s loss. The generosity of spirit you expressed has continued to accompany me, not only as comfort but as example—of how dignity and peace may still be chosen amid pain.
With gratitude and affection,
Ricardo