Alabaster essences emanate from my worthless hometown,
notwithstanding being bathed in the idiocy from which my
neighbors and family have fallen from grace and denied
the existence of their relatives by naively
shutting them out of their entire lives.
Salinger speaks through me during these times of dilemma,
his influences make my words spear from my mind and
my mouth with the vigor of a thousand Roman soldiers,
the alacrity of one hundred tsunamis,
and the result of many hours of hurt and distress
sustained by the various strains
to my life during the past year.
My words aren’t his, but are my own, but there can be no deny
that I feel his presence in my room as my pen writes words on
the paper in front of me, that seem like nothing at first,
but end up sounding like the terminology of that an angel,
a divine messenger of God, giving me the strength I need to
sustain the sorrow and despair I feel on an almost every day basis.
His influence is far from forgotten.
Salinger stays in the minds of all who knew him,
who cherished him, and those who heard his own expressions,
and listened to
what his vocabulary meant,
and knew that his language,
in many instances, be the gospel truth.
My pen and the plethora of paper taking up liberty in my room
seems to be my means of speaking to him,
telling him all I wanted to say while he was still with us
and everything I want to declare now, almost a year after he left.
Salinger lives on in me, and in the existences of everyone who knew him,
who treasured him, and who inundated in his life’s energy
and emerged cleaner than before.
His forgiveness reigns with that of many significant,
his influences position with that of many renown speakers,
and his love for his family cannot compare with any man’s.
His legacy will never be dismissed or elapse,
but will be remembered by us, the handful
of close family he existed and expired for.
He is not a martyr, but a leader who has left us,
but has engrained his knowledge and heart into us all for
use in our approaching futures with our own families and acquaintances.
I’m sure that he gazes upon us all, and is still at
this juncture despite his physical entity being departed.
He subsists through all of us,
our lexis, judgment, and unseen requests.
Salinger is immortal, as long as we never give up what
he has educated us, and if we trust that he is still instructing
every day for the duration of our lives.