.png)
By Michelle Garcia Fresco
April 20, 2021
My great grandmother Tata
is not remembered for her kindness
just for the way she left
knives in legs of men
who owed her
money.
The men in my family never live long
enough to be remembered
as anything other than
victims.
It is said the women of Duvergé are brujas
who bury their husbands
in the ashes of their
alchemy.
That the women of my family
cast spells in silence
as they serenade their childrens’ spirits
asleep.
My eyes are as dirty as the water,
sit on the edge of a sea
of brown that are
my ancestors’
bodies.
Are muddled in centuries
of cries that can conjure a
curse.
Check out all the art and columns of April's Boston Compass at www.issuu.com/bostoncccompass