Far From Home

Alejandra,

It weighs on my heart, each breath, a need to have your hand in mine. Your laugh close by while I look for a bench.

One in the sun, one arm outstretched for you to hold. Yes, one not too far from a tree. One where you can hear the birds while we read our books. Somewhere to sit and talk.

Where are the birds today?

Why don’t they sing?

My daily walks are not the same. The neighbourhood has changed so much and English feels strange on my tongue. They don't like how I roll my r's. It weighs on my heart and ribs. Each breath tears an artery, and all my blood, air and longing spill out in front of the bench I found. Oh no, I've fallen now, and my bones are too weak for much else. My arm is still outstretched for you. Will you take me where you are? I can't remember the way. It is colder here than back home. I found a bench for us to sit and talk.

Where are the birds today?

Why don't they sing?

There are two large oak trees. Their leaves fall on my cheek. It's not entirely in the shade. The sun is shining today, but the birds are quiet. The leaves blow a kiss on my bloodied face. Everything hurts. The neighbourhood is colder these days. Yes, colder, but the sun today is warm. Is it a sign, my Ale? Have you brought the sun to me?

There’s a bird perched on a branch. Maybe if I lie here, still and breathing, it will stay with me.