La Virgencita

In honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe:

Roses in the Mexican Winter


          Don't you know, Juanito, we are all Castilian roses, blooming in the Tepeyac snow?
          Mexico may be a beautiful land but it is not our home.
And it is cold.
          But still, we can bloom bright against the Tepeyac snow.
          We can move bishops, Juanito, as easily as mountains.
          In our color, in our shape, in our very scent--
We smell like home to him and he knows we wouldn't smell that way
          If we weren't Castilian roses
          In the dead of the Tepeyac winter.

Discourse on the Existence of Thorns

Can you please tell me, Señor Diego:

The flowers from our Mother --

from the Lady on Tepeyac hill --

from that perfect Guadalupe --

Did they have thorns? 

Did the roses get caught on their way down 

as they fell from your tilma?

Did the thorns cling to the cloth, 

unwilling to fall into the bishop's arms, snagging the threads as gravity and your shaking hands 

nudged them downwards? 

Or...

Or were they smooth 

Soothing against your hands and cloak 

Graceful in their fall?