Hasta Siempre/Until Forever – by Lisha Adela García
I let go of my son the way an ocean
gives up a whole sand dollar to the beach,
and then retreats to noise and froth
against the rocks.
Twenty years walking on parent glass
to learn the ocean cannot
be nailed to the shore.
Children cannot be contained
by goodness or right intention.
Their eyes see through a blinding fog
to a road where I cannot name the trees.
He is now on his own tarmac
flying through the doors
I placed around his body
when he could not walk alone.
The mother conch is empty,
sand fills the center-pink womb.
When he returns, I hope
he finds home again in the grey
of my hair and the lines of my face.