The Winds would take me

Los Aires me llevarán/

The Winds would take me

By Paloma Joy Díaz-Minshew

I try not to stand still in the winds
for I know that they’d scatter me out from within
I try not to stand too still in the wind
and resist the warm air wrapping round my soft skin
Calling me out from within

Hair tickles my cheekbones
Pointing to the sky
but I want to stay here,
frozen in time
Stuck on a moment
where I might take flight
          But the wind can’t stay still.
It must move
Still wind is the dead air we consume.
So that warmth soon abandons me
rustling through the trees and the leaves
where mourning doves sing

I hear the wind whisper
Follow me,
Pulling me to be free,
It knows if I followed
I might not survive

Follow me,
(would the world notice me whisper goodbye?)
I hear people, like pigeons, cooing nearby

The winds know
If I took to their skies,
the only thing to truly chase would be my mamí’s cries

I’d be like those women whose legends they tell
Stories you know but don’t remember well
My name’d be forgotten everywhere but the trees
Where a mourning dove’s calling might remind you of me
A Paloma’s cucurru carried on the breeze
I move through the calling because I don’t want to leave