Books, Beans and Atole

Books, beans and atole my friends bring,

sushi, tea and eggs.

Chicken soup, seashell pasta and trinkets that shine.

Inspirational coins stamped “Love, Stay Strong and Heal.”

Slippers, booties, jammies and hats.

PSI bands I adorn on my wrist; no nausea I hope to make me twist.

Piñata of bright colors with flowers galore.

Prayer cards, cards and letters of love.

Saint Perigrine, “Pray for Me”

Blessed Mother of God, “Protect Me.”

Money for gas to meet my new friend,

picnics with Chema I say.

She’s clear, fluid and nasty…

keeps me in the trenches of prayer.

And even a rooster who thinks he’s a dog and dog who thinks he’s a rooster…

but friends they are.

Friends…some old

Friends…some new

How does one pay for positive thoughts, love and encouragement?

Unfathomable.

Know that you fill my heart and in time of need, I’ll be the friend who brings

Books, beans and atole.

By Virginia Rodriguez  5/2017

 

Underneath The Lilac Bush

So many years have passed

before I find you like a lilac bush.

Her scent traveling afar

guiding me to where you are.

You have never left me.

I have held you close to my heart

and in my pocket.

Because of you I’m here.

My face is old now, but I know you

will know me when I come.

Rest in peace mama, abuelita and baby

as now that I have found you so shall I.

Virginia Rodriguez/2004

 

Two Days Left

 

Two days left of October

tear the big white paper expose a clean slate.

November now to look forward to

no coffee stains to remind me of days rushed

no bad news to digest turning my belly to mush.

Think new goals

dead saints to memorialize.

Think of those who already departed and not those who might.

Remove the Should Haves of days past

and focus on the Cans of the month ahead.

Two days left of October

No goblins for me

November turkeys are what I see.

Time to give thanks for the months’ bygone,

two days extra I need to get things done.

 

 

By Virginia Rodriguez/2015

I Fly

I fly look mom I fly like uck.

Flapping and flapping until he believes

his arms are wings.

K.  Now nana.

Gliding from kitchen to family room he flies

with the same grace as Orange Feet at Liberty park

quacking a throaty duck sound to perfection.

The real duck sound not the quack, quack

we teach our little ones to say.

Then like Jesus on the cross he soars.

Amazed at his impersonation I study his mouth

his M shaped lips are nearly closed save a slight opening on one side.

I fly look mom I fly like uck.

With heavy arms I stop

with heavy wings he stops

folding both toward the ground.

Again, again show dad.

I fly look dad I fly like uck.

Wiggling back into position

unfolding his wings.

K.  Now nana.

His face illuminates with pride transforming him to animation

his chubby brown neck vibrates with a new found voice.

The real duck voice not the quack, quack

we teach our little ones to say.

Then like Jesus on the cross he soars.

Steadfast in flight, shifting his sight,

I fly mom…

I fly dad…

I fly like uck.

 

By Virginia Rodriguez

Who Is She?

Who is she?

She wants it to stop, but how?

The torture of being ripped out of her skin makes her want to kill him.

Just when she was beginning to like her it happens again.

She’s held to the ground like a venomous serpent then left to be swept away, reminding her of where she came from.

When it’s all over she pretends.

She sheds into something new, something more beautiful, then promises to love herself more.  Exhausting her energies on someone else…she doesn’t.

Who is she?

She doesn’t remember the metamorphosis.

She looks in the mirror unable to recognize her face or the spirit within.

She’s dumb, she doesn’t even like her!

So lonely how does she escape?

She leaves back to the safety of her mother.

Resting in bed drinking coffee… forgetting how frightening it is to be alive.

Surviving another day she asks,

who is she?

Then whispers to the wall.

She is who she wants to become.

 

by/Virginia Rodriguez

Dedicated to women around the world.

 

“My Love”

She lay there looking like she knows no one.

Before that recognizing a sister, a sister grown older than she remembers.

The smell of death fills the tiny room unfamiliar to her daughter,

“In about a month, she’ll be home.”

A handsome man enters the room making her eyes follow.

Silence… gives you the impression that he is a stranger.

“Do you know this man”?   A quizzing nurse asks.

After moments of absorption she simply replies,

“my love”

 

Dedicated to my Beautiful Tia Linda,

by Virginia Rodríguez