Constancia

I remember the words you spoke to me;
Many nights you cried. 
The pain of your weeping vividly echoes.
Your smile and laughter I also reminisce.
You were everything to me; Still you are.
If I could, I would collect your teardrops
And turn them into diamonds.
Your blood runs in me grandmother,
For you were both mother and father.
There are some things I must tell you.
In your last agonies you told me I was a good son;
I turned my head; tears streamed.
A woman of love; of generosity.
A beautiful angel you are, Constancia.

My abuela Constancia, 
In my mind you ride on golden chariots
Drawn by one thousand Arabian horses;  
Your Adornment in white is the fabric of the gods.
The rarest of diamonds grace your neck,
Earlobes and wrists.

I love you.

Beautiful Soul

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On a metal gurney the finality
Of suffering lies.
There is no more breath.
There is no more life—
In wide open eyes.
Oh the heaviness of her pain
On darkened days;
The wailing; the weeping,
And silent cries. 
Heaviness of sorrow 
Was plainly seen,
But society purposely 
Turned a blind eye.
Still she valiantly fought …
The uncaring and the mockers,
The image of her face
Will eternally haunt.
Left behind in her room
Is a coffer,
And inside it, a gold heart locket 
With the inscription:
“In My Heart Forever”
That was given to her by her mother.
A note was found beside it.
Who will help carry her?
This beautiful soul that graced 
The earth with her presence.
Her piercing hazel eyes,
And long hair, 
dark as Raven’s feathers.
As they look upon her,
Her adornment will be seared 
In their memories.
A fighter; a sufferer;
A carrier of heavy sorrow 
That weighed upon her —
Who among us can judge her?
In peace she will rest gently;
Perhaps she will enter the pearly gates,
Or walk the halls of Valhalla —
There is a peaceful stream
In many a dream, where the living
Have sworn to have seen her.

Her Epitaph:

“Remember me not
For forlorn and pain;
But in the morning dew,
And the rising of the sun,
Three times, lovingly
Whisper my name.”