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 


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


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

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