la memoria
there are buried emotions stored deep within the muscles of my body. deeper then the memories that surface to my mind. more dizzying than the space of the moment you see yourself in a mirror. soft as my nina’s fingers helping paint dance across canvas; strong as the tequila my tita was taught to drink, a survival tactic against leery men. as a child, I’d stand on my tita’s empty driveway, bare feet on tiles, broomstick between my legs, asking my angels to help me fly. the wind would pick up but my feet never lost touch with the Earth. some days, I’d lose faith. other days, I’d wink at the sky and skip away giggling, sure of the realness of magic and sure that is was exactly that same magic that kept me from flying. an enigma. maybe children are more accepting of the unknown.