#abuela
In quiet nights my grandma cries
We talk of death and people’s eyes
We miss our words, she sees a vein
I ask her, but she’s not in pain
Mar 21, 2024
Mar 21, 2024 at 7:40 PM UTC
Haven’t touched words in a while because I’ll never see you again
You who once agreed with god really just being everywhere and everything
Still, you prayed and prayed for me
The natural sufferer
True to the prophecy
Love is the reason religion still exists
Faith from the old world
With the good of the new
You who taught me to listen
Simply because the earth speaks
I cherish every memory
No one’s ever worked harder to receive less
All-knowing you laughed at your own fate
Sometimes luck skips a generation
You saved it all for me
Cry for someone while they’re breathing
While they can feel the sadness from the void they’d leave in you
And be joyful once they rest
For they are everywhere and everything
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
my grandmother
used to stand over an open flame
every cold morning.
she would fan the fire
allowing it to breath.
then she would boil the water
for the cinnamon tea.
this ritual was for
all the men in her life.
just so they could awaken
to the smell of spice and
ignited flesh.
at least she kept warm.
strong men like to drink cinnamon tea.
they like to mix their coffee into it
every morning.
it's a beverage with double the damage.
they also enjoy dipping their tongue
in the boiling drink
so they can
sample the taste
of a woman’s burning.
my grandmother
still makes her
te de canela
every morning.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
Tus patas tamalonas, your fat feet
Fat feet
That makes the ground tremble as I take a step
My feet are flat
To be closer to the earth
God wanted me to remain grounded
To grow roots before I yearned for the sky
My grandma's feet:
Callous, hard, dry
Her feet were old books filled with handwritten poems
Romantic love journals
Her callous feet had to get like that
So that thorns and nails could no longer hurt
My grandmothers' travesia was grand
Her feet were so eager to move on
That they walked on their own
Patas! Patas tamalonas!
Grandmother would tickle my feet
And I'd laugh
Grandma, why do we get feet?
Because God wants us to walk mijo
Even when your feet are flat
Fat, uneven, or they hurt you must always walk
Stand up when they try to force you to sit down
Because those feet are yours
Today I walk, following your footprints
My fat feet being embraced by the hot sand
As I follow the sound of the waves
There you are
Waiting for me at the edge...
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC