My Hero
I wish I could remember the first time we met
the first time you held me in your hands
I was told it was a magical moment.
Mom says your eyes reflected happiness
is it true? I like to think so.
But you know what I do remember?
I have this amazing memory of waiting
for you to come home from work every day.
If I close my eyes,
I can feel your masculine hands
lifting me up in the air
making me think I could fly.
I still remember the smell
of chalk coming from your hands.
It made me admire your job
and see you as a hero that cared for many people.
I was able make other girls jealous
because I could fly
because your hands gave me the power
to become Supergirl
So many beautiful memories
but there’s one I want to erase forever
I don’t want to remember that awful day,
when I followed a path of blood
that was leading me to you.
I ran towards you
while my mom screamed for help.
I tried to get to you
but my legs were shaking,
and I could not reach you
No one told me what happened,
everyone thought I could not understand
at such a young age.
So I cried
until my lacrimal gland was completely dry.
Simultaneously, my soul escape from my body
and went up to the sky
desperately looking for God,
asking him to take care of you.
I don’t want to remember the next day
when I saw you in a hospital bed,
your hand destroyed,
and sadness living in your eyes.
At first, I blamed myself
after all, you only wanted to show me
how to be brave.
I swore to hate him for doing you this,
for taking away the perfection of your hands,
but mostly for all the times you couldn’t hold me
and make me fly again.
After the nightmare was over
(or at least we learned to live with it)
the smell in your hands changed.
Oh, how much did I love the smell of wood
coming from your now changed hands.
Even if I was too grown to be held up by you,
I enjoyed helping you build furniture.
I remember how magnificent it was
to look at you give your best
without complaining
or saying it was painful
even if the pain was reflected in your eyes.
I thought to myself
“this guy is really a hero!”
So many years since we built rocking chairs together.
Now the smell of grease mixed with diesel
emanates from your hands.
Your nails have been covered in black for many years.
All of that so that
I can not only dream
but reach my dreams,
no matter how far I need to go.
Your hands
always strong, even in the moments of weakness.
Your hands
were my first safe place in this world.
Your hands
work hard every day to make sure I’m okay.
Your hands
are what makes you my Hero.
Carmen Prieto
I was born in a small town in Cuba, and lived there for 16 years. Growing up I had a strong passion for science, which is why I am a Chemistry major. I spent most of my childhood reading my father’s books and coming up with stories that I replayed over and over in my mind. It wasn’t until my creative writing course at Bloomfield College that I put some of those stories into paper, and allowed people to read them (mostly because my grade depended on it). I love writing because I get to put a piece of myself in each poem or story, and because even in my native language I find writing easier than talking. I simply feel free when I write. I enjoy other things like listening to science related music, being in the chemistry lab, cooking and spending time with Max, my gorgeous fur baby.
コメント