WHEN MY MOTHER GIVES MY ABUELA'S CHAIR AWAY
it’s because she’s cleaning the basement
of boxes, bags, and removing barricadas
to open up space.
she puts the chair in the alley
with its glistening gold arms
and crushed velvet,
vying to stay asleep in the corner
like abuela used to.
i dream of my mother and my abuela
inside of a home,
my mother resting on her lap,
their fingers folded together,
mouths mumbling prayers to La Virgen,
pleading that the cancer wouldn’t kill her.
before i wake,
i see my mother sitting silently,
Viviana Mendoza is a high-school English teacher & a person who writes poetry. She's been published in Motif, The Sagebrush Review, and The Ascentos Review. Her words always find their way to paper right before bed...when she should most definitely be asleep.
"Dia de los Muertos means being able to honor and acknowledge family members whose physical presence is no longer tangible, but whose spiritual presence is always near."