Maps
At times, Spanish becomes
An incomprehensible
Tangle of strange words
Like strange woods
And unfamiliar sounds
That roll like hills
And confuse my senses-
English is my natural
Habitat, but to my lover,
English is a new land
Which still feels altogether
Unfamiliar under his feet...
So in the moments
We cannot find enough
Common ground to
Communicate with
Spoken words,
We've learned to
Read eachother
Like maps-
He doesn't need labels
To recognize the shape
Of my expression;
He uses the curve of
My lips as a landmark-
He has studied the course
Of my tears like inlets
And the sigh of my breath
Like waves against
The coastline, since
I swore that my arms
Would always be
His harbor-
He has traced the planes
Of my face with his fingers
Until he knows them like
The back of his hand...
His hands are as familiar
To me now as
As my own backyard...
His palms are traced
With lines that wind like
The rivers of Guatemala
That he swam in as a child,
Or like borders,
But they are always
Open since his hands
Are like a compass-
When being lost feels
Like loneliness,
They lead me into
His arms-
When the world keeps
Sliding around like
Fault lines, they
Lead me back onto
Solid ground-
When a storm blows me
Off-course, they lead me
Back home...
It's funny how
Being with him
Is like reading a map
Of a foreign country,
And yet...
Will still lead me
Home.
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