gracias por todo

Poetry | Roi Alexis Martinez-Soto

i will never forget these scenes.

"first time flying into o'hare!

what a privilege, to see the skyline from here!"

between the lake and clouds, a space where i believed, 

only seagulls and souls of those moving from this world to another, could exist, be free:

i thought, "so this is what they get to see!"

the horizon's hues of rippled blues, turned teal 

as we approached the shoreline and passed the beach,

before the colors turned to steel and concrete. 

the sun hung low in the distance, its golden streaks

of light, dimmed, caressed the city that evening.

the wheels kissed the ground and i let my family know i'd arrived;

i was alive, i was home again. 

out of the sky and into a cab, i said, with no time to waste,

"to 57th & pulaski, please," and was on my way.

passing restaurants and neighborhoods i used to know,

i wondered how long its been since i've seen them.

at the address, i hopped out, grabbed my backpack

and anxiously stepped through the tall, wooden doors.

i saw my mom, cousins, tios and tias. some, 

i haven't seen in months and others, years.

we caught up, shared laughs, had coffee and bread,

before i headed to the main room, to greet my grandmother.

i walked past photos from a different time; 

"he looked like a movie star in his prime," i thought.

my grandfather, in his favorite tan suit, laid looking sharp.

his face rested, just like it did, when he'd watch t.v. and fall asleep.

his hands, callused from decades of work were crossed, but instead 

of a remote, there was a rosary between them.

i touched my grandma on the shoulder and said 

"hi, abuelita," as my lips quivered and arms stretched.

with her eyes swollen, red. 

fist full of tissues, clenched. 

and a face with the expression of despair,

she turned to me with a smile and softly said

"i'm happy you could make it," before bursting into tears.

i held her head as we wept, knowing life would never be the same

without him. the man who helped raise us, fed us,

took us in, as if we’d always been his kids.

gracias por todo Don Juan, because without you, 

who knows where our family would be.