By S. Salazar
Why Choose Away? A woman in a rural house curls into the couch and crumbles in body. She leans against Rocky Mountains, farm fields, collapsed silver mines. Why would someone choose to leave this wisp of woman in isolation away from the distant echoes of her family? There is a lone Latina in my house, a cutting from plants rooted in islands and insomniac cities. She aches for secondhand memories, stained recipe cards, sepia photographs. She will find a way to rewrite this story.
Disconnect “You aren’t Latina,” they say as the sapling is pulled up from its place in the dying stump, snapped near the base of the trunk. “You aren’t Latina,” they say, pushing the sapling’s roots into new, distant ground. “You aren’t Latina,” they say to the sapling, who could have grown just fine through the shrapnel of wood. “You aren’t Latina,” they say to the sapling, who could have thrived, stretched into the sky, rooted in the cleaving of scarred parts.
Imposter “You hiding?” Probably, but shouldn’t be. It’s hard to step out into the sun’s rays, unsure you’re deserving of its light. “You hiding?” Maybe, but you don’t belong in the shadows either. “You hiding?” No. It’s time to grow. You should be here despite the fear, rising from the fields to thank the world for your ghosts, rising up from the mud to open yourself up to voices bigger than yours.
S. Salazar was raised in the Pacific Northwest and has always felt at home in the mountains. As an English teacher, she strove to show students that success isn’t defined by background.
S. Salazar is published in Harpur Palate, The Acentos Review, Poet Lore, and BOOTH Journal. She has poetry and young adult fiction works in progress that explore what Latinx heritage means in a family where it isn’t discussed. Follow @writessalazar on Instagram and Twitter.