Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Mama Gloria, cuéntenos un cuento


“Yo lo que sabia era de las vacas…” 

En una tarde cálida y llena de curiosidad espontánea. Acostadas alrededor de la abuela, sus nietas escuchan y anticipan una amigable intimidad con ella. La abuelita procede a relatar su nacimiento.
"Mi Mama salió en la mañana y fue a lavar un gran canasto de ropa sucia al río. Cuando regreso a la casa estaba tan cansada de lavar la ropa que se acostó a dormir. Dice que unos gritos de bebé la despertaron y que cuando vino a sentir tenía ya la cabeza de su niño en medio de sus piernas. Inmediatamente la vino a asistir su madre. Ella le corto el cordón umbilical y no sé con que se lo corto y si estaba esterilizado porque en ese entonces no habían doctores que asistieran a las madres para tener sus criaturas. Eran las mismas de la casa las que asistían. Luego, la abuela del bebé hirvió agua y rodeó al bebe con botellas de agua tibia para guardarle calor. Así nací, fijate."

Son sus anécdotas y dichos como "Chancleta vieja que boto no la vuelvo a recoger," que despiertan nuestro corazón al recordarle.
Su folclor...
La manera tan consagrada en que comía su pollo: hasta el ultimo huesito!
Su sensibilidad, su humor, su lucidez.
Y su dedicación espiritual hacia sus seres queridos.

Abuelita, cuanto te extrañaremos.
Tus nietos, tus hijos, tus amigos. Tu familia terrenal.
Allí donde ha dejado una herida tu partida, allí mismo entrará tu luz. 
Y rodeada de luz estas.
Te vemos hermosa, feliz y plena.
En un lugar maravilloso donde descansarás tras una vida larga, dura y colorida.

Te amamos Mama Gloria.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

A Valentine Gram For Little D

Bubbly, bubbly fun,
You sweet tart with a bit of tang.
So vibrantly amusing
With your social graces.
All joyous treats,
For those of us
Charmed enough to have you.
How sweeter is my spirit
To have been birthed your kin.
Delightful and caring,
Oh lovely Daniela.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Goodbye Luna

If only I could accord the world today with my radiance.
That I might be useful to it, but the darkness of the night dims my serene maturity and reduces it to solitude.

I already miss thee heavily.

The new year had barely made an appearance with its northern crisp and usual unwarranted airs of good fortune.
We were candidly amused by this winter's splendor, seeking refuge in feasts indoors.
The toasty fireplace, the warm chocolate, the soft beignets.
I accept praise for the exquisiteness of my culinary endeavors that make you grin. This more than satisfies me.
It had been a mere two weeks since the weight of the world had turned your posture concave into a human shell.
Hard.
No other conviction reigned your intelligence but the good old 'woe is me' with a hint of fatality.

That afternoon, while the clergyman's memorial echoed in the back drop, you broke down before me with a ghastly sense of defeat, yet still and steadily picketed your way through my defenselessness with a big, fat sign of a game bird.


Emptiness has punched itself into my stomach.

Having but released a single breath from a beautifully arduous attempt to resuscitate you from your perceived unredeemed existence, you take mine.

My efforts perfectly exhausted.
I was redundantly, involuntarily exiled from your kingdom.
Many moons we harvested together, but today there was no place for a hopeful maiden.

And now I too am morose.

I weep for the nights past and pray for our separate beatitude.
That we might catch up to it. 

Goodbye Luna. 

My blank page,

I abandoned you.
I had no self to offer you though, as I couldn't even reel myself in.
I was consumed.
Too busy filling a void with an illusion.
Nurturing a fantasy that had a bitter end.
Denial can feel eternal.
This self awareness only breeds from pain and the wise words of a soul mate if you are humble enough to listen.
Stubbornness has its tipping point.
I am finally here.