In my mind, I’ve come across the world-shakingly staring at all the tiny things that stays the same, the blue-eyed sky, milkweeds tall as people, always moving towards me. I thought maybe just maybe, I’m not asking God the right questions

and somehow guilt plasters its weight on to my body in good fat, lard, ghee, avocado oil, more importantly, the stain of its fear pressing into the church clothes I don’t know how to get rid of, so I wear them. Sunday’s peasant dress tuck into tub ware,  deportations -small – small helpless children, high heel, black pumps – I know what its like mothers are gone (sold away  ) I know what its like being in another country, not from the one you came- sister somewhere, mama -somewhere, and then there’s me, six generations later

sister’s house was raided I was too far away- God seemed further and all she wanted was a home, all I wanted was a goal that she could be proud of. When asked she’ll tell you all that’s behind her now, she’s moved on…

I ‘ve gone back to God persistently asking …

there’s no time be concerned with niceties, 

God and church are not one and the same

I do believe God understands my rage,

God meets me on my street, in my home

where the air is not so clean, pass the bodega and the meat shop

right over 21st street.