Poetry, Elizabeth Núñez
Shall I pray under the citrous sky
Or grieve over the rotten land
Where my mother used to play as a kid
Her church dress covered in dirt
Shall I count the stars of that warm September night
When my father climbed the tallest tree
And held the world in the palm of his brown hands
Shall I sing along with the morning hens and the hungry dogs
Who would follow my mother on her way to school
Her curly hair tamed in two braids
My father sighs as she walks past his classroom
Shall I wash my hair at the green lake
And catch the fish with golden fins
Nearby, two kids share their first kiss
Their mouths closed tight, an endless promise locked between their lips
Shall I rest my head on the painted white clouds that melt like cotton candy
On the day Lupe and Toño got married
My grandfather cried as he let go of my mother’s arm
Shall I walk the quiet roads and visit the empty houses
People frozen inside broken frames
Like the picture of my sister on her second birthday
My parent’s hopes and dreams lay on her eyelashes
Shall I weep under the forgiving rain that mistake my sadness for romance
I roll down the windows
As we head towards the city
Shall the hills bid us farewell and the water bless our journey
And when my parents hold their hands for the last time
shall I remember
that this was their homeland and they were once in love.
Elizabeth Núñez (23) is a university student and aspiring writer from Mexico City. Her writings are characterized by mixing English and Spanish, dealing with topics such as feminism, what it is like to be a Mexican woman under a highly macho society, the mother-daughter relationship, and nostalgia. Find her on IG @eli.nunz
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