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Poem
After El Cielo or Bust

I know time isn’t 
on my Mother’s side
for much longer

Her frail body like a delicate 
wine glass that has just tipped 
off the table toward 
a floor
that is sturdier than 
an antique piece of furniture.
And I am watching it In 

slow-motion 
waiting 
waiting

For the sound to catch
My ear because I can’t
Bare to look.

I know this because
She has made sure to teach me
One last time
How to make enchiladas 
Using no measurements
Of any kind. 
“mira cuanto mija”
I never looked 
Until now. 

She has been writing
In her journal a final 
Goodbye where
She talks about all the things
She couldn’t tell me in
Person

But I already know 
What she will talk about

She will tell me I am her pride 
And joy. Her morning sunrise 
And her sunset. I am a piece of 
My grandmother that lived on. 

She will Talk 
about my children being more
than she could ask for.
How her heart explodes everytime
One calls her abuela
Because she has dreamed 
Of being a grandma 
Since she had a hysterectomy
At 25.

She will mention how we shouldn’t
Take life for granted. 
And 
I will see the smudged ink where
A single tear dropped at the very moment
She confessed this and her palm tried
To dry it off but it still stained
The paper like an imprisoned memory. 

She will acknowledge her addiction
Which I already know exists
But she will reiterate it anyway 
Because it will give her peace
Of mind one last time. 

When she has penned out all of her thoughts 
That were hiding in the crevices like
A thin layer of polvo, 
I will dust them off
And put into the crevices
Of my own mind. 

I know I will miss my mother
And I still cannot comprehend 
How much because it hasn’t happened
But when it does, I will curl up like a baby 
On my cold bed and come back to this
Moment. When I spent my time writing
About her instead of being with her
Because she has made the
Sacrifice to watch my kids while
I work on my poetry assignment
For class.

And it makes me sad because
We were never close enough to hug;

Not emotionally 
Never physically 
Always mentally

Mama I am still a child
I need you here.
I haven’t matured enough
To give you a hug without 
Feeling embarrassed
Without overcoming 
The fear that my first hug
Will be my last.

Now, she is the mother 
I have always wanted
She is the mother 
I have always needed
And now it is too late
To go back to my teenage years
When I rejected her for being an addict,
because I have learned no one is 
Perfect, but to me
Mama you are perfect
now
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