Mi Pajarito by Monet Ayala

I have watched you wither away 

like the flowers in your garden. 

I have watched your disease 

invade you like the weeds. 

I have watched the brightest smile turn to a gaping hole, 

and I have watched you rot and wither and rot.

Your hands are among the first I ever reached for.

Your arms were among the first to ever cradle me.

I have felt those arms around me ever since.

What will I do

Without your loving embrace?

What will I do

With one less set of hands to cling to?

Who will I be

Without you?

Please get up,

And walk around like I know you can

And run around the park like I’ve seen you do

And show me that you’re still you.

Please talk to me,

And remember how old I am

And tell me about the birds like you used to

And show me you’re still there.

Please just remember.

Because I will.

Because I cannot help it.

I will remember you every time I see a hummingbird.

I will remember you every time I admire a geranium.

And I will get a tattoo you would hate on my ribcage,

And the sting of the needle will remind me of you,
And the ink on my skin will remind me of you,

And you will be etched into my skin and you will seep into my bloodstream,

And it will flow through my veins; 

Nourishing, poisoning, hydrating. 

But you’re already there, aren’t you?

You have your roots in me,

All your spindly roots 

In my mind and in my heart,

Because my voice is just a copy of a copy of yours,

And my body is just a replica of a replica of yours,

And my life is only my life because of you.

And when you are gone you will never be gone from me.