Guerrero, México

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.

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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