Finding Home

"When will you be back?" she asks. "I'm thinking next month." Ay, this constant leaving and returning. My chest tightens. She is more quiet now than I remember. I exhale deeply. "When will you be back?" she asks again, her memory more fickle this time. "March, Mom." "Okay, anak." I hail a cab. Rain pours. Traffic ensues. The lights change. Cab driver steps on the accelerator.  The city roars to life.  My trip is still three hours away. Plenty of time, I think. Cab driver steers to the fast lane. "Ang takna alas siete baynte sa kabuntagon," Voice from the radio barks. "I have plenty of time," I say again to myself. I look at my watch, catch myself holding my breath as thoughts drift to our home where my mother, more quiet than before, who asks me twice, when I will be back,  waits for March.

Left foot, right foot, breathe. I am not who I was last year. Breathe. Walk, walk, walk Blue bird swoops down and up A boy not older than 9 maybe, throws a ball on the wall His reflexes are better than mine Breathe. Wind blows.  My skin tingles "The rich can afford to 'find themselves'," She said to me. It stays in my memory. I am not rich. Yet I need to find myself. Walk, walk, walk. Look up. The sky has cirrus clouds. Sun to my right preparing to set But not yet. Birds fly all over. Breathe. Who am I? Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Why am I alive? Walk. Walk. Walk. "Thank you for believing in me," an 11th grader said to me. My heart breaks. Last week, I cried. Because the pain was more real than the joys I ever felt. And why is that? Breathe. I am not who I was last month. or last week, or yesterday. Left foot, right foot, breathe. Where am I going? Walk. Walk. Walk. Do not stop moving. The boy is still bouncing the

A memory-- Your hand holding a pen sketching My face then beside it Words in Spanish I remember now "Dulce", the word, Dulce Then "Corazon" I remember now "Mi Dulce Corazon" was what you wrote. Only now, "No hay dulce" There is only my heart, "Solo mi corazon" Or what's left of it.