How to Honor the Dead

Her sea tinted colors tear through Coyoacan.

Marigold-pass’d lovers surrender to Coyoacan. 

Holy chains of the church’s bluest vision

imprisoning souls of coyotes tethered by imprecision.

A legacy born from struggles, where courage lies,

In Mexico encaged, under autumn skies.

“A heart lost to unfaithfulness,” the priest dismissed.

“40 weeks of expenses and pity,” the father persists.

A life lost in exchange for a chalice of milk 

Served only to padres over the altar’s ghost-silk. 

Incantations celebrating death merely through bread

As the 16-year old mother tucked herself alone in bed.

The due-date ensnared, El Mes de Octubre's reign, 

The ofrendas dared to shackle the girl's escape with pain.

Only when death is celebrated, accustomed by her mothers,

Yet her choice deliberated, not by herself but her brothers.

Abuelita, I say with pride and love:

Gracias for your unchosen sacrifice whereof

Yo nací in your image, through my father’s life

Perdóname for your teenage, unforsaken strife.

—

translations:

padres : priests, fathers yo nací : I was born

el mes de octubre : the month of october perdóname: forgive me

ofrendas : altars