LatinosUSA

Paper That Remembers

She still holds on
to those report cards
since KG,
stacked in a clear plastic folder,
edges curled at the corners
with time.

Among them,
her prized possession
The Senior Cambridge certificate,
mailed from Cambridge,
inked in careful pen,
unfaded, unblurred,
as if time chose to spare it.

Sometimes she takes them out,
traces the numbers,
the remarks,
and feels that quiet rush
into a life archived.

These paper relics
have outlasted the days they measured,
lingering long after
the child who earned them
has moved on.

And she can’t quite tell
If she preserved them,
Or, if they were the ones
that never let go of her.

~~

The Fragility of Later

No magic.
No wars.
No earthquakes to teach her fear.

Still…
her hands shake
when the steam clears
and the mirror gives her back
a stranger.

That’s when it hits:
change doesn’t knock.
It just arrives.

~~

I’m not done yet

In the creases of his face,
Sleep a thousand unfinished sentences.
Time has folded itself there,
careful, deliberate.

His eyes still carry a dim glint,
not hope exactly,
but memory honed to a point,
a pencil worn down
by learning, unlearning,
relearning how to stay.

Every year he edits himself,
crosses things out,
writes about the changes,

as if to say…
Don’t close the book yet.
I’m not done breathing.
Don’t bury me
while I’m still paying attention.