When death comes
for those we love,
so, too, does birth
of a new day—
when everything has changed.
When the world was
as it was
is no more.
Cuando mi abuela estaba aquí,
su cultura dejó un legado
en me
Some are a culture unto themselves,
like a quiet force
upon this Earth,
shaping it
into their own image.
That takes power.
But when that power is gone,
the Earth tilts differently on its axis
and sees itself differently in the mirror.
El comal de mi abuela
le dio calor al aire de California
y a mi alma
We are now foreigners
in a foreign land,
longing for the old ways
and the old days.
We will never again taste that flavor,
but I am grateful
I got to savor it
while it was here.
Durante cien años,
mi abuela caminó por esta Tierra
como madre, matriarca y monumento.
We now gaze up at the stars
and into the clouds
and wonder
maybe that culture is now
embedded in the heavens,
floating through eternity,
and gracing God and his heavenly hosts
with a new flavor.
Mi abuela era terca y estricta,
pero era una cultura en sí misma,
Yo era su mijo, y la recordaré siempre.
A new day is born
the day every one of us dies.
And like birth itself,
it’s full of pain
and possibility.
We are the pieces of the precious people
that came before
Su cultura carries on.









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