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Andrea Figueroa Poem
Bear, are you there? Can you hear me? I have to talk tomorrow at your celebration thingy, and I can’t figure out what to say. Can you sit with me for a minute?
Sure seester. (Plops on the couch in my head).
Ok. What’s the first thing you want me to say?
"Tell them I’m pretty."
Bear! Stop. They know you are pretty.
"Tell them again. Tell them I’m still pretty. Prettier than I ever was."
Ok Bear. Marcos said to tell you he is pretty. Prettier than he ever was.
"You’re pretty too seester."
Thanks Blooder. I know.
I hear a choir of laughter. Who’s with him I wonder?
He hears my thoughts. "Grandma, Grandpa, (both sides) Uncle Ray, Auntie Julie, Auntie Yolie x 2, Uncle Henry, Chuey, Isie, Leo, Cody, Canela, Rowdy, Luna, Sir Henry, Sukai. They are all here."
Where’s here Bear?
"Everywhere, he answers, and nowhere all at once.
I was in your coffee this morning. And I watched you make the bed. I was the birds outside eating the seeds you left, and the deer who came by for water. I was the wind that blew the decorations down, and the actual ghost that tugged on your arm the other night."
Jesus Bear.
"Nope, not Jesus, but that dude’s cool. He’s here too."
"Ok Ok, he continues, Here’s what you can tell them. Tell them I love them. Tell them I wish I could have stayed, but I’m not sorry I didn’t. I know that hurts. Sorry. I’m sorry about a lot, but it’s hard to dwell on the sorry where I am. Tell them, I’m happy I got to live. Happy I got to love. I still love though. Just bigger. Wider. Farther.
You’ll understand someday."
I stop him. I’m not used to you being the wiser one brother.
"Well get used to it seester. I know everything now. I am everything. Remember that."
Bear, I wanna go to the beach again brother. Just us.
"Here he says", puts a clear image of the two of us in my head. Sitting by the waves. I have my hand on his crossed knee. He smiles, you know the smile.
"We are here seester."
Thanks brother. This is nice.
"Thanks for my party", he says.
You’re welcome blooder.
Thanks for the dog, I say.
"You’re welcome. "
I love you brother.
"I love you too seester."
Copyright © Andrea Figueroa | Year Posted 2025
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Andrea Figueroa Poem
I stand in the doorway. Prepare to enter the land of the living.
I hear laughter, music...joy.
I am not ready.
I take a deep breath
gather someone’s strength.
It can’t be mine, I think.
I feel you at the back of my neck
tiny hairs tingling with your presence.
Not here.
You can’t come in.
I turn and scold grief like a child.
Grief stares back
eyes wide, Christmas gift in hand.
She softens.
Grows.
I have to come with you.
Invited or not, I am with you.
Now I’m the child.
Begging.
Please. Wait outside.
She sighs, softly rustles my hair.
I will be here. I have no choice but to accompany you.
You have no choice.
You will learn to be my friend.
Let me hold your hand.
I feel her.
Now heavy
Settling into my chest.
Her convincing weighing more and more on my breath.
I can’t imagine her weight becoming lighter.
Learning how to breathe with her there.
Everywhere.
And in me.
Another breath.
Another breath.
And another.
I hold her hand tight.
Enter the room.
Copyright © Andrea Figueroa | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Andrea Figueroa Poem
Your voice, deep and soothing,
Amulet I carry.
Rooted in my lungs, a memory,
A coro,
sad lullaby that warned children,
Life ends.
Stops mid-verse,
Play anyway.
Hurry now,
Sing me the muñeca song,
But don’t let her die this time.
Keep her counting and jumping,
Counting and jumping.
Her blue dress bouncing to the rhythm.
Happy and unaware,
Alive.
Tengo una muñeca vestida de azul...
Copyright © Andrea Figueroa | Year Posted 2026
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