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Tengo mi alma hecha ceniza 

Espeso lodo de volcan

Gris oscuro 

Como el gato de mi casa.

Cruel y arrogante ceniza 

Que se atasca en mi garganta y me enciega.

Siento el vientre lleno de esta.

Quema y se revuelve  con mi amargura 

Atole agrio.

Nada como aquel que prepara mi abuelita.

Entre mas arrebato con mis brazos cansados 

mas ondo me siento undirme.

Estancada  en este barro.

"dicen que de barro somos" oigo declarar  las ancianas de mi pueblo.

Tranquilo pensamiento, 

"polvo eres y en polvo te convertiras"

asi, 

menos me asusto.

Con los brazos abiertos recibo lo que siempre  e sido.

Ceniza calida,

ya casi fria.

Embarrada en esta sopa primordial. 

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Comment by Aideed Medina on June 23, 2012 at 7:38am

This is another poem that was published in the Flies, Cockroaches, and Poets Journal , CSUF, 1999. I edited , what can I say,  all these years later,  either I have something new to say or maybe I am getting cocky in my old age and I think I can say it better now. I am going to have to come back and add all of the accents. damn codes for accents are not something I have memorized ever.  Some of my writing has to be in Spanish. It is the language I learned first and the language that I am inclined to out of passion even though English is my primary language now. Go figure. 

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