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A Dream in the Ashes

gibel andrea amador

I wonder when her light flickered,

when her ideas were so grand—

light bulbs bursting,

and now I walk on that broken glass.

 

I wonder when the lights dimmed.

Was it your parents, my father, or your role as a mother

that told you not to dream?

 

When did thoughts become suppressed, swept away?

Was it too unbearable,

the mind forced to forget?

That thick aroma of Fabulosa

so many Hispanic children remember

slowly replaced by the smell of the unkept.

I played with my toys, wondering when you would wake up.

 

Sometimes not until night,

then it was my turn to dream.

 

I close my eyes, wondering:

Is this what you see, Mom?

A world where women can dream?

Is this hell disguised as sanctuary,

locking us away from surfacing?

You can’t swim to the bottom

and not expect to gasp for air.

 

We were born to walk on this land,

to forget about this asylum of dreams.

 

Mom, breathe, I beg of you.

 

I awake to see my mom cooking.

A small flame on the stove keeps our food warm,

but my mom’s dreams

will always

remain

cold.

Gibel Andrea Amador is a first-generation Latina filmmaker, writer, and photographer from the vibrant borderland of El Paso, Texas, with roots extending into Juarez, Mexico. Currently, Gibel is pursuing her Master’s degree in Creative Writing at UTEP as part of the Bilingual MFA program. This program focuses on developing writers in both English and Spanish and celebrates the rich linguistic and cultural heritage of the borderland.

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