The faith of my sisters and their mothers

a gratitude poem

the faith of my sisters and their mothers
over the slurping sounds of a bowl of ramen
like the spice that stayed on my tongue
long after we’d laughed and cried at the dinner table

the faith of my sisters and their mothers
like the silent night of my 27th birthday
when no one else could sit on the brown leather couch
as the sunset passed us by
I said you could leave, but you didn’t.

The faith of my sisters and their mothers
As the handwritten words of a prayer
fell upon my hands
soaking them in rage and my daily bread
your eyes sparkled, mine cried

The faith of my sisters and their mothers
walked by a pergola covered in blue flowers
surrounded by bumblebees
they danced
I stood still covered in love
and a little bit of fear

The faith of my sisters and their mothers
spoke at least three languages
cooked three meals: breakfast, chilaquiles, and tteokguk
took up space and believed in liberation

The faith of my sisters and their mothers
took a photograph
or too many
we laughed
and held hands
I smiled because I’m not alone

The faith of my sisters and their mothers
danced salsa in the middle of the street
and remembered the voice of my own mother
she asked, “do you believe?”

I did not.
Not aloud.

The faith of my sisters and their mothers
believed in laughter when I could only see tears.
I do not stand on their shoulders.
for I do not want to crush their souls
I do not stand on their faith.
for we have different grounds to stand on

The faith of my sisters and their mothers
refused to look away
lifted my head high
and believed.
believed.
believed.