All that Remains

Of Caves and Cowardice

What I am is afraid;

Afraid more of my own thoughts

Than anything

Things like

You're only half any kind of human, not even

What are you doing here

And

So different

What I am is not how I look

I seem so regular and safe

So I must be

As people's perceptions of me are

Beauty only runs skin deep

So if you are one that finds beauty in pain

Look further

But who would want such a broken thing?

What use is a pitcher with a leak?

As decoration?

What if it was broken from the moment it was made?

Thrown on the sidewalk, pieces of chipped clay

Put your hands in the dirt

Toes in the grass

Your hands on your heart

Smooth folds in the ground corn mix

Mija, come close

I want to tell you

How I labored over in the field

Picking cotton

Abuela

Say it ain't so

That you labored there for hours

Just so I could have a life like this?

Aye, chica, it is

And the only thing I can make

Is tortillas

With flour

Mi mamá said

The flour made us white

Not in our skin

But how we were raised

Que the somber smile

And greying tears

For this pain

Is unimaginable

You are so brave for telling this story

But why, to the normal, ignorant child I am

Are you afraid

Of something as small as caterpillars?

Mi Abuela respondió:

"I hated the cotton fields. They were hot, dusty and full of dry cotton canes that scratched me and pricked me. Worse than the heat and dust were the tent caterpillars that seemed to hide in every weed and cotton ball that needed to be picked. If you weren't careful you would end up squishing them under your feet. There is nothing more disgusting than a caterpillar with all its green and yellow guts oozing out underfoot. Sometimes as one grabbed a handful of soft, fluffy cotton along came one of the unspeakable denizens. If one grabbed the cotton fluffs too hard, one could accidently squish the bug. Once I got tired and laid down along the rows of cotton plants. I woke up to the feeling of creepy crawling caterpillars on my arms and legs. I screamed and screamed and ran around while flaying my arms around me trying to get rid of that creepy sensation."

And so she was sent to school

And learned English

Meanwhile I can't even due her the honors

Of speaking her mother tongue

So what have I done with my life?

Nothing. I fear of failure

For her

Y para mi familia

She'll leave me

And us

And no one will know

That she was a wonder

And so I retreat into the caves

The dark caves where no one can see

Who I am or what I came from

Because I haven't done her sacrifices justice

And I sit there; I cower