Her sun kissed hand delicately places an owl feather
on top of white embroidered linen
Marigold and rose petals float through the air
landing on sticky honey dipped apples
Gusts of wind caress the house
Shadows dance with wafts of cinnamon incense smoke
Black and white pictures of ancestors frozen in time
speak untold stories of quiet revolutions
Her heartbeat drums and hums
tunes of celebration
as the candlelight dims
and darkness cocoons the hearth
She fills her belly with memories of Abuelita’s empanadas
and stews in the womb of silence
Moonlit tree branches nudge wind chimes
A gentle voice whispers across the veil
Speak
as an owl sings in response
Whispers crescendo and snake through the air
as her skin begins to shed
and death slinks through
She anchors her toes into Pachamama
I’m afraid
She gasps and
plunges into the underworld
Waves of air and dead leaves swirl around her
as she free falls into the void
Her Abuelitas fall with her
smiling as they swim through the air
Breathe
She holds her Abuelita’s hand
unclenches her body and stretches out as
dead leaves and skin shed off
and reveal
a loud rebellion plummeting into the dark
and bursting into light
