Sin Zapato

This time 24 years ago
I am barefoot along The Mighty Hudson
the asphalt and concrete my balance,
my proof of life.

My shoes a few blocks behind me
under what’s left of the North and South Towers
and my Innocence

I don’t yet know
how the Day will shape Unaware Me,
embed Itself
weave Itself
into my every step,
stopping me,
propelling me,
trapping me,
shoving me.

I don’t yet know
that years later
I will walk into crowds and compulsively
count souls,
court red EXITs,
convince my body
in a crowd of bodies
that there’s a way out.

I don’t yet know
that I’ll choose a string of places,
partners,
companions on the path
that will crumble
and cover me in dust.

I don’t yet know
that the voices only I can hear,
Faith and Fear,
will push and pull me,
disguise themselves before me,
drown out the Holy Instinct in me
that knows rightness
from wrongness.

This time 24 years ago
I am climbing up the steps of Granada Court
Clinging to the handrails,
having walked the length of The Rock
now in someone else’s shoes,
El Vecino Millo
taking in the Blue
from his Throne atop the stoop,
“Chuchú, ¿como estás, mijita?”
I protect his Royal Innocence.
“Todo bien, Millo.”

Moments later I am falling into Mami’s arms,
Her first words, “Ay, mijita.”
My first words, “Ay, Mami.”
My first thought eleven miles and a world ago,
How will I tell Mami that I’m dead?

This time 24 years ago
I am on the floor of Apartment 4,
my legs weak with the work
of carrying my body down
26 flights,
up 11 miles,
and out from under greyed-out blue skies,
unable to bear
a never-known World of Worry
for the friends I’d walked with,
the Firehouse Beauties I’d flirted with
only hours before.

When night arrives,
I am on the edge of my couch,
my throat, eyes, and limbs frozen,
making a bargain with Insanity
something in exchange
for at least my voice
as I hear Mami’s voice, from far, far away,
“Mijita, ¿que te pasa?”
“No me pasa nada, Mami.”

This time 24 year ago
I will run away from my Hard,
Single,
City Tough life,
and allow my heart to Hope for
Softness,
and it will all crumble
and cover me in dust.

This time today
only a minute ago
I am on the floor of apartment C34,
my legs weak with the work
of carrying my heart down endless flights
of Grief, Insanity, and Fear,
up miles of Hope, Faith and Softness,
and I notice that somehow
I’ve arrived at Forgiveness.