"For Abuela"

Magdalena Cassel

I was sure I'd never weep while holding him.
The little candled altar to la Virgen was
where I knelt to pray and shed my tears,
before I turned my back to be with him.

The little candled altar to la Virgen was
the place where I last kissed my mother's cheek,
before I turned my back to be with him
and follow him into a city of dreams.

The place where I last kissed my mother's cheek --
I forgot, while I learned to close my eyes
and follow him into a city of dreams,
of fire and manmade light.

I forgot, while I learned to close my eyes
and let his hands reshape and reassure me
with fire and man-made light,
how sordid strange the city sometimes seemed!

I let his hands reshape and reassure me,
trying not to breathe the liquor on his lips --
How sordid strange the city sometimes seemed!
But he promised a living and I believed.

Trying not to breathe the liquor on his lips,
I was his bride and so a mother,
but he promised a living and I believed
the day would come that he need not struggle.

I was his bride and so a mother
to our daughters and sons --
but that day came that he need not struggle,
after a night he coughed blood in my arms.

To our daughters and sons
he was a memory -- I remembered,
after a night he coughed blood in my arms,
I was sure I'd never weep while holding him.