A dream:A little girl with gold-tinted brown curls ran past me in the kitchen, the screen door slamming behind her.
“Chiquita! Chiquita banana, be careful!”
I scolded, and wiped my hands on the apron, but as I looked out the window, she just kept running, hair flying, into dandelion fields.
Chiquita, chiquita banana, I knew her as such. Her name was Anna, I knew this as well. But Anna, my Anna, was too wild and free to just be.
It didn’t have to make sense. Because somehow, I knew her: Even as she ran, her little brown arms and wild curls flapping, I knew her, wild and free. She ran away. And I could smile, knowing, she is there. Somewhere. Beautiful and free.
You will think this means something it does not. It doesn't matter. It was only a dream. But it was my dream, and it was everything.
He was creating mermaids
while I was treading water
somewhere in between
the shallow and deep end
needing the salty depths of the ocean
but trapped in this,
a chlorine tub of my own doing.
So I untied the ropes
feeling replacing thinking
knowing I can float freely
here with you
knowing I could have stayed
but knowing that the act of leaving
only meant I was leaving.
I couldn’t let you be. You weren’t ready for swimming.
They stuck those tiny tubes in my nose
and as I stared into the nothing
I felt a squeeze,
I saw her face again
clearly, so clearly,
just as before.
She wasn’t upset or disappointed or angry
she just gave me a squeeze
suddenly, awake underwater
I can’t see down here,
but I can breathe
I can sink
I can float
how could I have forgotten
that I still know how to kick?
I came to
and I wasn’t sorry anymore
I wasn’t scared
I was just me again, a different me than before.
Maybe the you that could never be
will be chasing her in the clouds
She doesn’t need those new lungs to keep up
with you up there,
so go, play. She'll teach you how to swim.
And I’ll love you from afar
know that I loved you as I could.
My Anna, my chiquita. My dream.