ARIELLA PINEDO
Poet, Creative, Dreamer
BLUR THE LINES AND DECONSTRUCT,
Erupt with all the colors you are made of.
Chiltepín
It’s a small red pepper from central México that
not long ago
made my grandfather cry and
sweat. Sweating into his menudo he would stir in spoonfuls of that dried Chiltepín. Pinned
are these memories of this
stocky
old man
full of pride; I wondered when was the last time he went to confession
for his transgressions to his god.
God, Jesus and even to la Virgencita de Guadalupe
Mi apá did not shed a tear at his father’s funeral
an event for the living,
where I cried big tears for a man that I wasn’t always a fan of.
Of the way every unwarranted lesson came with a wagging finger
or how he always needed to be the strongest.
The strongest amongst the weakest isn’t really a
strength pero
una ventaja
I have only seen Mi apá cry once and
it wasn’t at his father’s funeral.
Published in Forum Literary Magazine (Spring 2024)
― Ada Limon, The Carrying: Poems
“Look, we are not unspectacular things. We’ve come this far, survived this much. What would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?”