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Abuelita

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The thud of the car door still echoes
in my traumatized brain.
Shiny, white tiles feel no pain at the steps of my feet.

Lying on white sheets, there is a little body fragile and cold, thin and paint brushed with wrinkles.
Though her body is weakened and her joints look tired all my wounded eyes see is strength of a soldier.

She grabs my hand and strokes my knuckles with a soft thumb as if she were taming a wild creature.
Her brown native eyes study the worry lines that have been carved into my forehead, “love” she whispers.

My eyes are ruined paths that follow her's into the light
they are moons that leave me speechless, ocean tides
refusing to come back and kiss the sand.
Quietly, she inspects the white wall of empty detail

As her aged rose colored lips begin to hum me a lullaby,
she looks into the window, airplane lights soar like birds
in the darkness. Memories overload my confused little mind, and she hums, like a tree whispering in the wind.

She puts her fragile, working hand on my left cheek and wipes the tear away which has burned into my skin.
She closes her eyelids like suns descending into a mountain
of green and forgets my name, once again.



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