Conchita’s face fills my doorway
like a dream I know.
A teacher mother come again.
The day before Navidad,
we share food
at one another’s homes.
We sit on cardboard, compañeras,
sharing guisado from her cookfire.
Then we walk to my casita,
for coffee and licuados.
A day of drawing closer, even though
we can barely comprehend
one another’s life. I don’t even know
which is her Mayan language.
Her Spanish is hard to understand.
But her presence, so strong,
feels familiar, calming. True.
Her unforgettable face in my doorway
bestows a treasure.
©Susa Silvermarie 2017