Sacrificial Son

White paper roses sat on her nervous lap
the same immaculate roses
her brother tenderly made out of toilet paper
in his jail cell at BCDC.

Yesterday he carried them out of his filthy cell
up the scummy stairs into the dilapidated visiting room
gripping tightly to the roses, a good-bye gift
for his only carnalita.

She accepted them with an angelic heart
that burst forth with fires resembling the
golden hue of dawn
she knew this was God's greatest gift.

Neither one of them wanted to hear the guards words
"Visiting hours are now over"
he who never showed his soft side
now stood with tears in his eyes
rocking back/forth on his pigeon toed feet
opening/clenching his fists
all she could do was cry
he never cared for long embraces
now he held her tightly in his arms
until the guard said it was time to go
shuffling away he followed behind the guard
never taking his eyes off his sister
even after the metal door was slammed shut
he jumped up to see her through the small glass window
one last look at his carnalita who would soon go
to live in Japan for three years.

Now she seats in the Albuquerque International Airport
surrounded by friends/relatives
who huddle around her
bulging like her over stuffed flowered suitcases
being zipped/unzipped to add one more treasure
so that she would never forget Burque.

Tenaciously she holds onto her white roses
leaning on her mother's shoulder
wanting to be cradled
as if she were still a baby
not a newly married 19 year old.

She could not forget her brother's eyes
ten years ago he had looked at her
the very same way
when they had been torn apart
by the same system that was meant to protect them.

He was the sacrificial son
who caught all the razor sharp words
that slit his face
took all the left hooks squarely
in his slender chest
ignoring the bruises in his heart
even at 13 he knew his sister must live
they said he was crazy, then locked him up
in mental institutions
a menace to society, he spent his formative years
in juvenile detention centers
he did all this so that society would never turn
on his sister.

In his mother's family there had always
been a sacrificial son
from the beginning of time
the ancient ones, had sacrificed the bravest/strongest
warriors to appease the Gods.
He remembered the stories of his
Great-Great-Grandfathers, who smoked
peace pipes late at night
only to be slaughtered the next day.

He thought of his Great-uncle who survived
the Bataan Death March, was a Japanese prisoner
of war for over 3 years
following the light of his people
trying to make the world a safer place.

He could never forget the look
in his mother's eyes when she talked about
his Uncle, who caught that bullet
right in the middle of his heart
spilling his brown blood in the
savage jungles of Vietnam
wanting only for his family to live in tranquillity.

His short nails dug deep into his
sweaty palms
breathing heavy he was angry at
his unwanted fate
yet he knew he would be the last
sacrificial son
opening his fists
with fingers relaxed
he picked up the white toilet paper
nimbly set to work
never stopping, until he had fashioned a
bouquet of simple roses
for his innocent sister
who been born from
La Luz de Lucero
the morning light.

When they announced her flight
her huge hazel eyes
opened even wider
now red filled with tears.

She wanted to leave
to join her young husband
yet her feet would not budge
just one more hug/kiss
before she could leave Burque.

The only words to escape
her beautiful sad mouth
stung everyone's hearts.

"Don't forget to visit my brother"

As she boarded the plane
she turned/waved
with her white roses
the paper roses bowed to everyone
as if they were peace doves
releasing the spirit of her brother
the sacrificial son.






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Maria L. Leyba

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