Copal was her safe space.
It was her 24th Día de Muertos.
*
It was her cousin’s Tepotzlán backyard
protected by coats of Aztec marigolds,
these small representations of radiant sun.
*
The trailing aroma of marigolds
guided her ancestors back
to grace her with their presence.
*
They didn’t let her forget who she was:
She was beautiful, and she was strong.
They didn’t let her forget the people
*
she came from: kind, generous and alive,
despite being disregarded more often than not.
About the Creator
periwinkle_poet
Poems by a dark, sweet, and semi romantic Latina, all in one 😊 I'm finally sharing with you what I've been keeping to myself. I hope you enjoy!
If you like what you read, you can buy me a coffee! https://www.buymeacoffee.com/periwinkle_poet
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from periwinkle_poet and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.