unanswered prayers
my grandmother tells me to pray
so i send a greeting to a false god,
i ask him if i’m too sinful to be loved
he does not answer
my grandmother gifts me a golden rosary
she tells me that i glow the same color as her absent son
she does not hold me
the distance between us is the same length as a prayer
my grandmother sings about faith
the glorious gospel stronger than love
fragile as i am
the register of her holy voice is enough to break me
my grandmother says hello in english
a signal that i must mutate back to my former self
instead, i press her sorrowful hand to my forehead
and i wonder how much forgiveness burns
my grandmother does not know how to forget
she has taught my mother the same
reminiscence has learned to worship grief
on my knees, i remember how to weep
my grandmother traces her memory into my palms
she asks about my love line
how it is split in half
i confess a tale of brokenness in her native tongue
staccatoed syllables that taste like forgetting
decipher morse code
to reveal my everlasting question:
am i too sinful to be loved?
Jo (she/her) is a queer, Filipinx poet from Modesto, California. She studies English and Comparative Literature at UC Berkeley, where she is the Editor-in-Chief of {m}aganda magazine and a contributing writer of GIA Magazine. She writes from a place of healing and reclamation, and she hopes to provide a space for others to do the same. You can find her on Instagram at @johanlorraine and @maganda.magazine.
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