i weave the colors electric
into tapestries of
floral patterns
and oceans.
the colors taper red
and die purple
drowning in the lament
of a raging sea.
the secret is in the pin
prick
drawing colors from finger tips--
dusty and dulled brown rust
leaving its fading fingerprint
on a foot mat.

before i started
i asked my mother why we must die.
her face unbroken responded
only with a look of grief.
her once black hair quickly dried out
gray and fell
just like the life from her body
leaving her like a
fragrant
sun burnt raisin.
i picked up the dust
that was my mother
and drank her down with the lemonade
my father had made
from the lemons my grandfather had
stolen from the earth.

a tree grew inside of me
tearing at my flesh
and breaking through my skin.
i became that tree
from which my foot mat hangs
on the northern branch.
i became my mother
my father
and my grandfather's lemons.
i became the night and
the day
for those who sought breeze and shade.
my limbs grew strong and tall
shadowing the world
protecting her
from the blazing sun.

My leaves fell onto the earth
like snow from a high mountain
blanketing the earth.
i became the foot mat for
a weary earth.

08/09/2005

Posted on 08/09/2005
Copyright © 2024 Uriel Tovar