“Shush, Mija” by Lauren Olivia Velasquez Robinson
My mother cries
my mother leaks lostness
my mother’s back breaks
in new places
small places
blue patterned linoleum
banana leaves cushion her feet
her dark brown hair woven
with rouge red flowers watered
with grandma’s tears past
blue silk wraps her torso
keeps her straight
her ghosts bind her ribs
after each hit
Mom…
Tears dye my face
a deep blue hue
..people don’t say I am Mexican, I don’t feel Mexican
I’ve never seen a woman
just crumple
hit the land
hit with the realization
that their child is lost
great grandma stares at me
from cotton fields
and burnt feet
“Shush, mija”
About Lauren Olivia Velasquez Robinson
She/Her/Hers
Lauren Olivia Velasquez Robinson is a Denver writer that focuses on hybrid and lyrical poetry that documents our society. She is also a high school teacher in Aurora, CO where she teaches English to brilliant young high school students. She graduated from the University of Colorado with a BA in Creative Writing, then a Masters in Education. She is a new poet who's been writing forever and is currently working on her first book of poetry.
@laureno.v.r