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my dimly lit eyes ​are not wide enough for you to know what I've seen

but my ears have heard the rooster cry every morning at 5 am

my nose awakened by the smell of café con pan meaty, still warm from the bakery

I can still feel the clang of my teeth against my aunt's tin cups as I sip for the last drop of milk

my fingers pricked from fishing along a stream under the shadows of mountains so high that they keep the sun all to themselves ​ my cheeks have caressed the mist that mystifies the dirt roads where I once scraped my knees

and my eyes

my eyes have seen my grandfather rise before the sun so that he can meet it in all it's glory at the top of the valley where he keeps the cattle

my eyes have seen my mother's feet test the waters of El Rio and transform into a fish una sirena, mi mamá and she is one with the river that raised her she swims and bathes and the water sways her soul and she forgets how heavy her heart is

my eyes have seen my cousin Daniel with a smile so radiant and unbreakable run in my sister's old pink shoes excited at the sight of the prize that armors his feet because these don't have any holes in them these aren't yellow like the teeth of that man whose macho-ness ain't shit compared to the soul of my aunt

my eyes have seen flames dance típico with the cold wind as I huddle into my aunt's pancho for warmth

my grandmother savoring every sip of her soup she brings the spoon into her mouth with the same grace and honor that our ancestors summoned when they plowed the land she stares at the flame but I know she's watching us

from south to central and back these eyes have seen my heart lose bits and pieces upon every soil i've stepped foot on

these eyes are my witness

the rest are ignorant spectators

for my eyes have been waterfalls sinking and drowning, those same waters keep me afloat

because I see so much ​I feel everything

and I keep seeing

silent

I keep feeling

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