After the last box is packed and the moving truck pulls away,
I have to face it. I have to say the word, “Goodbye.”
Goodbye to all the hundreds, maybe thousands of men I wrote with at Soledad prison, at Salinas Valley Prison, who wrote out their pain.
After the last box is packed and the moving truck pulls away,
I have to face it. I have to say the word, “Goodbye.”
Goodbye to all the hundreds, maybe thousands of men I wrote with at Soledad prison, at Salinas Valley Prison, who wrote out their pain.
Goodbye to all the kids at Juvenile hall who used to sneaks hugs from me.
Goodbye to the wonderful people who took my writing workshops.
Goodbye to the roller coaster where my sons took me for my first ride on my 40th birthday and my brand new birthday combs blew right out my hair.
Goodbye to Dominican Hospital where I had three spinal surgeries, where I was given a book on Frida Kahlo, who had 27 spinal surgeries, and I decided then to write a play about her and now has been produced around the world.
Goodbye to the garden where my mother’s ashes are scattered.
Goodbye to the corner of California and Laurel where I broke my ankle in five places roller-skating home from the grocery store.
Goodbye to all the sea lions that woke me up at night,
and to those wondrous pelicans who keep flying in and out of my poems
Goodbye to what I thought was the sound of waves at night until someone said it was the traffic on Highway One, but, really nice sounding traffic.
Goodbye to the flea market where I got all my furniture and to the drive-in where my dog Barkley and I would go to watch a movie and share a pizza.
Goodbye to the redwood trees in a fairy circle around my little house until one came down and cut the house in half. Goodbye to the little house.
Goodbye to the Metro, the Good Times, the Phoenix, The Spaghetti Express, The Independent, the Student Guide, Matrix, La Gazette, and all the other Alternative Press Newspapers here that I ever wrote for.
Goodbye to the little theaters who first put their faith in me.
Goodbye to the wet cement walkway where my first grandchild pressed her tiny hands.
Goodbye to the place where I raised three of the finest men I will ever know.
Goodbye Santa Cruz, I will not forget you. I hope you will remember me.
Claire Braz-Valentine lived in Santa Cruz for over 30 years and recently returned for a tribute to her work presented by Actors Theatre. She has taught in almost every state prison in Santa Cruz, has been a Poet In The Schools and a Spectra Artist. Her plays have been published by Samuel French and produced all across the United States and in five foreign countries. She now resides in Paradise, CA and returns to Santa Cruz often to visit her family and friends.
Poet Robert Sward edits ‘Local Poets, Local Inspiration,’ a monthly feature of Santa Cruz Weekly.
