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Rossy Evelin Lima<br />
Tlalli Iyollo<br />
I<br />
Venerated grandmother,<br />
I am the fruit of your tree.<br />
Will I one day find your dress,<br />
cinched to your waist?<br />
Luminary womb<br />
preparing<br />
to give birth<br />
to my mother.<br />
Grandmother, will I find your dress one day?<br />
impregnated by the impending howl of your hair,<br />
worn out by the sea.<br />
II<br />
Grandmother, you are a mystery from my past.<br />
There is no portrait<br />
where we gaze at each other,<br />
as if you want to elude me,<br />
sitting on that rock<br />
sweeping the sand with your hair.<br />
I always find you giving me your back,<br />
pointing with your mestiza silhouette<br />
at this path that took me thirteen years to reconquer.<br />
III<br />
Grandmother, will I find your dress one day?<br />
The piece of porous cloth<br />
that covered you,<br />
142 WINDWARD REVIEW | Vol. 18
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