Treasure, mi tesoro, as I caress the curls that form on the crown of your head and whisper, ´´baby, it´s ok.´´
These are only words, and I have no idea if they´re true – all I have is a hope that maybe my heart can reach you, in those dark recesses that recall the betrayal committed against you by a place and a people you love so hard.
It´s not the same, I know, I had a choice. I came to a place I already belonged except I don´t and I get that neither do you. You belong on a long stretch of beach, under the hot sun, surrounded by white sands and the warm Carribean sea.
I´m not sure where home for me is yet. But I know that betrayal reaches the cold, dark places in New York too. The place I love so much didn´t exactly love me back, it didn´t see me, it didn´t want me as much as I wanted it.
Love, mi amor, as your hand creeps into mine finding the groove that you fit into perfectly. We were never not scarred, we were always not whole. We are here, I think, and I don´t exactly know why.
You still feel the nuzzle of that gun pressed against your head. I don´t blame you. Your sleep is never complete surrender, awakened by the slightest sound, you look at me while I lie next to you, breathing deeply into my slumber.
But I still feel all the hands I trusted hurting me, the phantom fingers clawing their way into my soft, warm flesh into my not yet hardened soul. My humanity reduced to someone else´s desire, someone else´s rage, someone else´s agenda. Survival meant being blissfully unaware that these trespasses into my self leave indelible marks.
Paz, my sweet, peace in your soul, peace in yourself. Peace to rediscover the pieces of you that have been dispersed by the whims of a place and a people who did not protect or fight for your humanity.
How could they let that happen to you, to me, to this beautiful world filled with warm bodies searching for their sense of stability, their sense of self.
I will always treasure you, even in the darkest of your days, when the tears that course down your face transform into something you can´t explain. Your hands have shown me that not all hands hurt, not all of them search to take what they can never appreciate.