1
One and a half years old
grandchild
you came to our house
carrying a package
bigger than your size
soldiers shouting
breaking doors
the steps of your mom
running away
the shooting and
your own cry
I lift you up in my arms
with love and put your
package aside next to mine
that day you became
our little girl
2
knock knock
on the kitchen’s door
knock knock
on the closet’s door
knock knock
on the refrigerator’s door
mom are you in there ?
i ran to my room
with knots in my throat
and shut the door
to hide my tears
knock knock
on my door she said
¡ vamos ! ¡ vení a jugar !
come on ! let’s play !
3
Will this anger give me strength ?
Put in motion my selves ?
The one who loves ?
The one who hates ?
The one who cares for her family ?
The one who detests this Dictator & Co.?
How dare these murders to invade
Our children’s home and make them disappear ?
To leave their child with a neighbor
To steal everything
To place a sign at their house’s street door which reads:
“Closed by the Army” ?
Are they expecting mothers to remain still?
Our girl began crying.
I ran to her bedroom that hot summer night
– questions still squeezing my brain like snakes,
sat beside her bed and put my hand
in her little trembling hand.
She stopped crying with a deep breath.
I found a reason to smile.
4
It seems this young almond tree liked this sandy soil to grow.
It is always the first to blossom – even before winter ends,
and see how strong its rugged branches are,
they can hold my grandchild’s weight !
I like listening to her little voice, her laughter around the house,
and my son looks so happy playing with her !
.
.
