Por Kimberly Willams
for David Muñoz (1959-2020)
My friend, when I realize
you are gone, have passed,
I panic. I am a house
sparrow caught in a jar
with the lid fastened.
Your spirit stretched wider
than death. I couldn’t fathom
that you’d ever really go. The zócalo in
San Miguel de Allende couldn’t contain you
or your song the night you joined the trovadores
roving the plaza, and I recorded the spontaneous joy
on your phone. We walked up and down the hills
of Guanajuato together, despite your need for new knees,
and when I made my late-night visit to the panadería for conchas,
you waited outside with the scent of baking bread for company.
Words stayed away for months after you departed, did not appea
for weeks, and still a part of me does not believe because your spirit keeps lengthening
--wider than the pyramids we walked among at Teotihuacán. When I think of you gone,
my heart is a trapped sparrow, wings swiping the glass, beady eye glancing beyond.
Ademas, here is a photo of us. I wish he weren't blinking in it. But anyone who knows David knows that he mostly took the photos, and so they are gone with him as I don't see his family (I live in Australia now). and I only have a couple of us. This one is best for this purpose, I think, because it was in collaboration for Peregrinos.
Gracias por todo,
Kimberly has been fortunate to travel to half the Spanish-speaking countries in the world by the time she was forty. As a traveler into different cultures, she has learned to listen ask questions, and seek points of connections. This page is meant to offer different points of connections between writers, words, ideas, languages, and imaginations. Thank you for visiting.