Fingertips

Mi abuelita is ripping apart carnitas with her fingertips Through my squinty eyes I am sifting through the lavish, glamorous sky I want to speak Spanish to her but I always forget To practice because I am fighting against this sea too quickly But before I get too far She says, “Mia, remember your roots” You can see the true brunette hair poking through the auburn of my wavy, dancing roots And the dryness of my inner-being, face, skin, fingertips Pushes me to seek far For a bottle, compact, veil the same color of the sky And because I am running through these vague notions too quickly Found in those books, channels, magazines, and faces I forget That hardly matters, what matters is my heart’s condition, sometimes I forget The lyrics to The Temptations’ “My Girl” but remember that Van Halen’s “Running with the Devil” is dug into my roots I am leaping over these mountains too quickly But I can’t escape the rings on my fingertips And the way sky-blue pink makes me miss, oh the sky Only mapquest says Los Angeles is too far Sometimes, the majestic adventure sounds so far And I forget The vastly divine, acrylic canvas-ness of the sky Is being painted and the truth that like all living things, a glorious tree begins growing at its roots So I’m choosing to be okay with the callouses forming on my guitar kissing fingertips I can’t keep fast-forwarding this tape so quickly I can’t keep fast-forwarding this tape so quickly When I do, I just feel like a rust colored wagon full of regret not being pushed far Enough and so crippling nervous that I bite my sore fingertips And struggle and forget Grace is pumping into my veins and binding my roots I know this redemption that is wider, higher, deeper than the sky I know this redemption that is wider, higher, deeper than the sky And it prevents myself from drawing my sword so quickly Because that will only cut through my roots Let me go ahead and take a risk and say what I see near and far Kick off the graffiti-ed converse tennis and forget To number the worries on my fingertips Because the kindness of the sky isn’t that far Let my lips whisper “thank you” more quickly than I forget To hold onto my roots and stretch my fingertips Upward, outward, and onward