Some nights I’d stick my face to the wall trying
to ease in on conversations between them
because no one ever told me not to listen to the
voices whispering through the thin, white wall.
I’d knock twice whenever it got too loud. Two
hard knocks because the harder they were,
the softer they spoke.
It got so bad one time that my brothers had to
strap my father down. His fist was the bull and
my mother had been running for years now
I’d stay in my room like little girls were supposed
to do. Little girls shouldn’t see their parents fight,
and even the times I had to sneak upstairs to get
my dad’s phone while he slept I wanted to bury
myself into a hole that opened up to a world where
the only things that fought were the wind and the rain.
At least then I could collect the droplets and make a
swimming pool for the butterflies that hung on my
The first time I felt like I had given up was the first time God showed me he was there.
Sana sana colita de rana. Sana sana.