By Graciela Escalante
Her Keeper
I carry her trauma,
yes, I carry it and
keep it in a locket to
carry hers and hers and hers
she followed a tradition
just as she was taught
and so did her daughter
and her daughter’s daughter, and she
had the same thought
from an embryonic state
up until womanhood,
in the womb their mothers cried
I cannot help
but I feel her sorrowed thoughts
she creeps in
I bury her worries and hers
I carry her trauma,
yes, it’s a crushing
weight as I run
trying to haul her trauma and hers and hers and hers.
Chicharra
There’s only 4 hours
Until it finally turns into 1
22 hours is how I started
It’s been 3 hours since
a chicharra screeched
my pistol is taunting me,
passing in Cali
where do the chicharras brood?
My hermano called me back
only to a hear lull.
Earth in my relic,
Apa finally cried.
Tactical greens I wore
tio Sam cared less for me.
Chicano written in red.
My mind, my prison.
A descendant persists to transcribe me
Reminding me of my home
chicharra on the mesquite,
leaving a shell behind.
South Texas is me,
The wind dropping the pods,
Hermano sees me.
They never fail to remember me.
Graciela Escalante is a graduate student at Our Lady of the Lake University in San Antonio, Texas. Graciela’s writing has many themes dealing with family, love, self-discovery, mental health, and the Chicana/o experience. Graciela writes fiction, poetry, and scholarly essays. Graciela has had some of her poetry published in Voices De La Luna, The Grey Zine, and La Raiz Magazine. Graciela also is working on a scholarly essay on Tim Burton’s Wednesday Addams that will be featured in an anthology of writing titled Fashioning the Borderlands. Graciela hopes that her writing can reach others and provide representation along with comfort. She hopes to continue writing—she is a writer for life.