Grandmother Poem by Orlando Rodriguez Jr.

Beneath the protection of the verdant,
Elevated mango trees,
There I lay upon the bare ground,
Next to my aging grandmother.
With a basket she wove herself; she sat there,
Separating crimson beans from the ones that were rancid.
Every day, coming closer to meet a paradise
More beautiful than the land she prevailed in,
Though never did she fade in hue.
Her face, a mere reflection of the soil on which she stood on,
A color known to embody the courage and roughness of labor.
It is in this very place, in the mountains,
Where she faded away, with her sanctuary as well,
Exploited by industrial imperialism and pollution
As a result of one’s avidity to raw materials.
She arose, descending way up into the air,
With nothing to follow but the trail of dark-maroon smoke.