La Catrina

El Dia de los Muertos is coming soon. Leaves are falling down, and the air has that unmistakable smell of decay. “La Catrina” is a poem I wrote to commemorate El Dia de los Muertos. I hope you enjoy it.

La Catrina

 

“La Catrina…call me La Catrina”

 

i spoke to her in a dream

her cheek bones were made of shiny ivory

no tears carved her gray face

a big yellow cempasúchil flower

was tucked inside of her black hair

she was the great queen of the night

 

La Catrina didn’t smile or frown

her lips were red like my Corazón

her eyes trapped my weightless soul

 

La Catrina spoke to me with her feeble voice:

“i’ve roamed the desert

waiting for los innocentes campesinos

i need someone to light my candles

every Dia de los Muertos—

 

if anyone dares to cross my path

i’ll take him or her to my kingdom

among the black stones and nopales

there among el campo santo de huhi—

 

son, you can calle me La Catrina

los Mayas call me kisin

los Aztecas call me mother

los españoles call me la muerte

 

i’m old and wise

i live in your dreams

no one escapes me ‘till I said so

 

La Catrina…you can call me La Catrina”

 

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