Poetry: Pebble in the Sun

Pebble in the Sun

I hold you up to the sun.
       Your dirt creased hands--
       Your solid mass of cracking stone
       that I heave away rock by rock in my heart.
       Your infinitely gentle "mijita"
       and weary legs crossing the desert--
       The methodic hands pulling up roots.
       The hanging head, sun-baked shoulders
        that rise in raspy laughter.

I tilt you to the light.
        The long ago child who escaped la llorona
         to drown in other rivers along the way.

I dangle you in the candle light.
        Wailing women
         piercing a sable night.
         Relentless, angry notes and
         broken corridos played on the E string.
         The fear in your eyes
         flashing like runway lights--
         brilliant red to warn incoming traffic.

I emblazon you with a torch.
         From your fire- touched, temporary lips:
         Tu eres la tierra, el mar, y cielo.
         Te respiro.

                             With my breath, the inferno is cold.

And I hold you up to the sun
with little girl hands--
a translucent pebble
carried through the seas.