Herida / Herencia

Emma Soberano | Poetry

Hay memorias I will nunca
remember because they are tuyas.
Como como you got the shrapnel scars
que me enseñaste en tus rodillas.
You pointed to them, puckered en tu piel.
Balas, you said, and I nodded, sin
comprender. I hope to never feel
a bullet peel flesh from kneecap. My sin
was nacer en un lugar that denied
me la habilidad for sincere empathy,
de tomar your tears, hacer your pain mine.
Is this the penance required of me?
Sacrificios de la virgen, martyred
to a hail of bullets. Forgive me, Father.