Poetic Justice
What were you wearing
La Llorona, as you walked
the banks of the Guadalupe,
commanding the water to rise
before the sun had a moment
to shed light on your terror?
How quietly you slipped in
and swallowed our daughters
while they dreamed
of popsicles, care packages,
friendship circles,
and coming home.
We do not consent.
You are not absolved.
Instead, we cast a spell upon you.
We reclaim our children—
as Marigolds, Jasmine, and Lotus,
garlands of petals.
Floating.
Risen.
Born again,
and coming home.
