ANGEL WITH A GUM

By Rosalva Ruiz

It was back in 1986 when my family was involved in a car accident. There was a bus full of people who helped us get out of our truck and laid us on the road. Although my vision was blurred by red stains, I saw her, my angel with a gum.

She may not know that she and it kept me mentally stable while watching my unconscious mom on my side covered in blood. On my other side, my sister trying to cover her pain with her arm on her eyes, biting her lower lip, laying there, as her legs were covered in blood as well. People surrounding us, whispering in disbelief as if we were some freak show from a roadside circus. And my red blurry eyesight that stung as I was watching it all.

She may not know that with this little piece of gum, she showed me the empathy from a stranger that I thought was long lost.

She may not know that thanks to this little piece of mint, I was able to breathe while my headache lessened and washed the iron taste in my mouth.

She may not know that it was thanks to her that I let the police officers take me and my sister into their car. It was thanks to that gum that I sat without a fuss while the doctor stitched my forehead.

And the most important of all, it was thanks to that gum that I did not despair when a doctor took me into his arms to see my shocked mom screaming, “Where are my daughters?!”
This invisible me in her eyes understood her state; yet I still cried while chewing that gum.

I have always wanted to say thank you; however, I don’t even know her name or where she is. The only thing I know is… The bow in her blouse made me think of angels wings.

Hopefully this time with this anecdote I can finally say,
“Thank you, my angel with a gum.”

* This is an anecdote I wrote for the “Mcallen Public Library Anecdote Day Contest.”

It will be held on July 5th, 2020 If anybody is interested on participating here is the link.

Soap not Soap Opera

My soul
Has tasted dirty waters
Of the unconscious leaders.
There is a need of soap
to wash it away
Not this soap opera
That’s filling our minds.

A soap with the aroma of love
With the texture to exfoliate
The impurities of hate
Leaving our minds
With empathy and resilience.

Let there be peace
Let there be joy
Let others be alive
Let’s recognize
Lets mourn those lives.
And above all
Let’s keep
ourselves safe.

The forgotten letter

I still remember when my dad got a hold
Of my third love letter. He decided to encrust it on a piece of wood.
Of course the deed didn’t end there, to embellish it, he wrote,”Hija de tigre, pintito.” Which is a proverb that simply means “The daughter is like her mother” of course, he meant it playfully. 
There is a saying in english that means the same with different words.
” the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

On top of that, there were little flowers around it and a small heart on the bottom. I was so embarrassed and didn’t understand the love that my dad put into making that piece of art.
I was barely six, so if you see horrors in my grammar and spelling, you can imagine how it was back then (terrible).
Now… back then, in the middle of our home, dad had a small canteen. There were sculptures all around, from a David to a Moses, he also had some wooden sculptures, most of the wooden ones were either from animals or people from different ethnic groups in Mexico; and of course, just entering the place, that maybe 20-year-old-round piece of wood was hung for everybody to see. He was so proud of it that if people didn’t pay attention to it, he would tell them about it. Of course, at those same moments my embarrassment skyrocketed. 

Now days I laugh about it, but back then it was a thorn piercing my ego. I used to believe in the element spirits, I still do, but back then it was like a law. Somehow, I believed that by throwing my love letter to the ground in front of my house, the wind spirit would use its wind to take it to my beloved one. I do wonder who actually got to see those two letters before the third one. This third one was written on a memo pink paper with my mom’s business logo. I barely finished it, but my mom called me and I forgot it in my dad’s canteen; Hence the all the dilemma afterwards.

The last time I got to see my dad and was actually able to talk to him, I asked him why did he do that with the letter?
He started smiling and said, “It was the first time I saw you write a sentence. It made me proud.” I didn’t get it back then, I guess at 15 years old, one doesn’t understand the deep meaning of things.
However, now days, whenever I remember that forgotten letter, it fills my heart with joy and makes me cry.

That which is like sand

Some say that time never stops
But I believe otherwise
Time defines our surroundings
But not our belongings.

It is wise
It gives us what we need
Sometimes to heal
Others to think.

For sure
it will teach us to live
To some, it comes in a breeze
To others, it comes after a slap.

It defines a new life
It seems long to some
At least to those yearning
Yet it is so short
To those transcending.

I guess it’s just there
To warn us
To guide us
To give us that push
But above all
To give us a sense
Of direction in our lives.

Food for the soul

As much as I thought
There were no such words
That came to my thoughts
When we talk about food.

Is not that I don’t enjoy
The delights of eating
It’s the preparing
And then the cleaning.

So let’s change it a bit
Food for the soul
There’s many things
Some are loud
Some are zens
And humor is among them.

There is dancing
which let’s the body sweat
With the sweating
and the moving
At least I forget
What needs to be forgotten.

And with each brush
A feeling is left behind
Such is a feat
That the painting
Becomes alive.

Of course
with each word
Our expressions
Give an illusion
Of a new world.

And there are much more
At least that I know
But for now
Let’s say this is my song
The food for the soul.

Creator or Maker?

From creation to cremation
Life, the core itself
Is full of iffies
Love becomes a goal for some
Others prefer serenity in their lives

Then there’s excellency
Which some reach
With tears and despair
And for others
Is like breeze in the air
The most natural thing on earth

Then again,
there are some
That have to fend for themselves
With no studies
Just the grace of God and will.

Although
the path at the beginning
is the same
Somehow with luxuries of the mind
From the bigger generation
Or lack of thereof
Marks the boost in creativity
Of the young fellows.

Then, like a diamond in the rough
If you use whichever tool
The cut won’t be precise
The diamond would be
Of poor quality use.

Now, if you got
another good diamond
You can make the most
Exquisite cuts
The best rainbow look
Not to mention
Higher price in the market.

But let’s not forget
Those loners
Wolves
leaders
Of them all.

Which makes one wonder
Is The Creator
the maker
of it’s creation?
Or is the maker,
the creator
of it’s creation?

Hurricane (memories)

Galileo Galilei what a great name
But the one I must talk today
Is about the Galileo huracane.

We were shut at our house
And our visitors were refugees
My little kitty left for the day
And crying I was there
My old other kitty
A lady to the top
With purring and caresing
All the way to my nose
Took away my sadness
And we waited for our furry friend.
The wind, rain and thunder
Gave me a scare
However, with this little lady
My day went flying away.

After the doom was past
Drapped to the soles
While miawing with all its lungs
The little kitty came back to my door.
So lady and I as well ran to the door
To welcome our little wet furry friend
With all our love.

Our friends left for the day
To find their houses
Demolished by the hurricane.
Family and friends
Together gave a hand
To build up a house
After this great tempestad.

Once again love prevails
Our friends without a house
Are now with one
That’s when one sees
The humble and greatness in people.

During devastation
We always get together
And once again
The sun comes out of desperation.

Arcana, The Story Behind

In the depths of despair

Thy flame becomes fair

And thy child with wings

Becomes a mortal in earth

But the knowledge of self

That is, within retained.

Once sixty lashes proceed

And the flame becomes complete

Then the one with seventy names

And the healer will once again

In heaven remain

As the prince of the world,

And as the protector of the unborn.

For each lash

10 years have passed

Six wings became three pairs

One shall be only in dreams

In the world, the boy shall exist

As for the last pair of wings

Only true love will know where it is.

Nonetheless till the girl appears

Ageless will be, the ancient of days

Moving from place to place

As for the twin         

The same path shall be seen

The one with the knowledge

In earth shall strive

As for the one in dreams

Till she appears

His memory in darkness shall remain.

Lucky Charm

My old torn leopard charm
It’s a bit rough to the touch
Yet soft to the sight
And mellow to the heart.

With a smell of ages upon it’s fur
Covered with a smell of gardenias
To my sensitive nose.

Even though it looks like Chester cheetos
The taste is not exactly the same.

It came like fate
When I was by myself
Bringing hope and love to my life.

At least, that’s the premonition I was told
Although I took it more as a joke
A “what if” was my daily hope
And sure enough, I met my other soul.

Sometimes I wonder, was it part of a majestic plan?
Or maybe just a coincidence in my daily life?
Did this almost insignificant thing
Pulled it’s strings?

And when the night comes
And say good night to it,
those eyes and smile assure me
That my little lucky charm did so.

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