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.

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