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  • a white Thanksgiving
    a weekend in the mountains lost
    to decisions and indecisions
    a mother, gone
    a baby, born
    a woman, wed

    there is sadness that prevails
    like the snow that barely covers
    the green and yellow grass
    beneath its whiteness
    like the pain in my heart
    that no amount of white can cover up

    the soft blanket of white
    so much like mammy’s sweep sweep
    under the rug of life
    the grass peeks through
    like the open wound
    left in my whitewashed heart
    my bleeding heart

    “de eso no se habla”
    “eso no se dice”

    each snowflake unique
    like the kaleidoscope of us
    her family
    each his or her own person
    each his or her own view
    and belief
    and customs
    and habits

    and yet
    the tender thread passed on
    by generations
    beyond the ages
    and all times

    the tender thread hangs on
    in a sister’s call
    in a niece’s love
    in a baby’s laughter
    in my heart
    that pushes out from under the cold snow

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