Her eyes lock with theirs.
Her lips cover their faces in kisses.
Her hands hold theirs and she loves them with every ounce of energy.
Tiny brown fingers entwined in her own.
Small friends.
Pajamas. Tanned legs. Long hair. Shiny lips.
Backrubs. Gossip. Marker tattoos. Green tank tops.
The girls are gold. We laugh. We workout.
We eat good food and drink smoothies. We have fun.
We also get stressed and we cry.
Crippled. Limping. Brown wrinkled skin.
Eyes poking holes into this evil world.
Her steps create pain. Her words shatter glass.
Sending chills through my body.
She’s stuffing drugs in her ears.
In her eyes.
She is so sad, Jesus be with her.
The emotion in this place is huge.
It comes and goes in waves.
Never ending always changing.
Like anger hitting a cement wall.
And shattering into a million pieces,
And then changing to happy chatter.
Echoing through the long hall.
Sometimes I wonder why im here,
And then I remember they need me.
Zamara is clinging to me.
Big tears rolling down her cheek.
Her face is a picture of distress.
Her older sister Zidra is fighting papa,
Her screams echoing through the whole building.
Her kicks against the wall.
Her fist pounding.
I want to give them my best.
I want them to know happiness.
String lights stretched over falling fences.
Signs blinking over rundown buildings.
Empty dark streets.
The rare rain soaking tired sidewalks.
We hurry along the skinny slab of cement that is messily formed against the side of the building.
The bells tinkle when we enter,
A rush of warm leather smelling air hits us,
Moccasins, cowboy gear, and leather.
Navajo printed jackets and sweaters.
The old man gives me a free dream catcher.
I bought an extra for you.
I love playing church with tiny Navajos.
I love holding their hands when they pray.
I love drying their tiny wet bodies with soft towels.
I love smelling their freshly shampooed hair.
I love holding newborn babies.
I love watching the sun sink behind red rock.
i miss you.
are my mountains still watching?
xo. ginger.
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