Elisa A. Garza

The People and the Sea

Story begins with the sea,

clear water and salt

a litany of blue,

of green, white foam 

fading from shore.

Begins on sand 

where the sea

slides an eternal greeting,

an endless leaving,

cycle wise as water,

stubborn as salt.

Before pale men

floated in with the tide,

the people knew 

this narrative:

waves bring,

waves take away.

Tía Sends Me a Photo of My Young Grandparents

for Minerva Reyes

Los rosales stretch

waist high, tall as the nopales

that compete with stalks of hay 

for water near the skeleton fence

of wire and thin boards.

My grandparents stand

behind rose bushes in the middle

of this garden. They are just

starting their marriage, 

but avoided the rose thorns,

cactus needles, and fence barbs

to pose, leaning on each other.

I don’t know how they got there,

between espinas and a thickly

growing vine that hides the fence

as it reaches toward a tree.

Grandpa’s direct stare

and grandma’s squinted eyes

are all they have to say.

See, there are two gerber daisies

that sprouted under the shade

of rose leaves to push high

their many petaled heads

into this photograph.

Decisions After the Third Recurrence

I have decided

to tell my cancer cells

I don’t like 

how they retreat 

inside lymph passages

pretending they belong,

easily avoiding 

chemotherapy hunts, 

their obvious trails

of broken DNA.

I have decided

to tell my cancer cells

they can collapse 

from my verbal punch, 

fold over and shove 

their cancerous selves 

(not) accidently 

and deep into 

their own mitochondria,

burn themselves up

inside out, 

become energy 

for my healing.

While I’m speaking

about mitochondria,

which should house

my mother Eva’s DNA,

Grandma Marta’s,

Bisabuela Marta’s, 

and so on, 

that DNA should be

unmutated,

without disease.

I have decided

to tell my new cells

about this unchanged

DNA, so they can 

translate mutations,

move forward 

honoring tradition

into a simpler

noncancerous future

where I can respect 

and trust 

all my cells,

healthy again.