“It’s Time”…
Perhaps the phrase
You whispered in my Father’s ear
When you were
Ready to conceive me.
“It’s Time”
Your water breaks,
I was born.
“It’s Time”
You let my hand go
And I walked my first steps.
“It’s Time”
When you knew your
Marriage was over and
You had to leave.
“It’s Time”
You combed my pig tails
Straightened my uniform and
Dropped me off
My first day of school.
“It’s Time”
You let go of the
Training wheels
I was still learning to ride my bike.
“It’s Time”
You gave me permission
To wear red lipstick
When I was fifteen.
“It’s Time”
You switched seats with me in
The Malibu and let me drive.
“It’s Time”
Your eyes filled with tears,
Giving me your blessing to
Move back to New York.
“It’s Time”
I told my sister before the three way call
To tell you: cancer
Invaded your body
And three months to live
Your death sentence.
“It’s Time” to fight this battle
Was your response.
“It’s Time” your promise
To tell me whenever God
Would call you to return to Him.
“It’s Time” you were forced
To tell me that January night
God appeared in your dreams
And told you it was your turn to
Return to Heaven.
“It’s Time” I repeated over and over
While I lay next to you.
Your agony ripped my insides
I couldn’t stop your pain so
I asked you to follow the light.
“It’s Time” the nurse told me
While wrapping your body.
I left the room crying
Begging time to stop and freeze
For our memories to stay still
For you to remain with me, with us
I hated time…
It ran too fast
It just wasn’t enough
I miss you already…
“It’s Time” the Funeral Director said
While I held your hands, still warm
Kissing your forehead
Imploring time to stop
For you to stay with me
“It’s Time” the man at the crematory said
While removing your casket
For you to return to ashes.
“It’s Time”
A small box with your ashes
Placed in my hands, still warm
I lost my Mom, my best friend
I am an Orphan.
Too fast, too soon.
“It’s Time” Abuelita said
to carry you forward
In this world
To make you Proud.
I have you inside me
Having imaginary conversations
Searching for signs of what would be your advice.
“It’s Time”
For me to become a Mother
I miss not having you
To rub my belly
Pleasing my cravings
Holding my hand
“It’s Time”
I am raising a child
Your grandchild
Passing on to him your lessons
Perpetuating your legacy.
“It’s Time”
To prepare him
For that day
I am called to return to you.
“It’s Time”
You’ll whisper in my ear
While holding my hand and
Reunite with you.
Wendy Angulo is a NYC born Latina, mother and lawyer raised in Caracas, Venezuela. She is the CEO and founder of Wendy Angulo Productions, an organization whose goal is to support, encourage, and promote poetry and visual arts and sole owner of Canvas of Words, an art and poetry showcase that debuted October 12, 2013 in Queens. For more information or to contact Wendy Angulo please visit www.wendyanguloproductions.com; Facebook: Wendy Angulo Productions, Twitter: @wendyanguloprod, Instagram: @wangproductions or email [email protected]