<\/p>\n
Frances<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n You were a woman who rarely sat, I imagine,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n but in this photograph, you sit,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n all four feet eight inches of you.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Erect and powerful as a queen,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n requiring no one to look<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n to exist in that chair.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n But you were not of royalty.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n You were the mother of ten children.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n And in your eyes are a two-bedroom house,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n 600-square feet, in Old Sixth Ward,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n where you would bear and raise children,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n live with sisters and brothers<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n and their children,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n sometimes cousins and distant relatives.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n You were quiet, and gentle.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n But in the set of your black eyes<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n (which would turn cataract-grey)<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n and the determined fix of your mouth,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n you carry the knowledge and strength<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n to survive the loss of your son Joe<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n who\u2019d drown in Buffalo Bayou at 12 years old.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n You carry the knowledge and strength<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n of being an indigenous Mexican American woman<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n with the audacious dream and determination<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n to see her brown boys go to war, come back alive and then<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n university,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n to see one daughter attend a music conservatory,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n and another daughter to study with the most prominent<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n painter in town.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n You carry the imagination of turning the means of a blacksmith<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n into generations of scientists, lawyers, bankers, business people,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n educators, writers, artists and thinkers.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Look at you, holding water-colored red flowers in your right<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n hand,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n letting it hang, a sprig of purpled wildflowers decorating your<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n breast.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Your black hair let down to hang along<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n the back of your white dress<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n to the legs of the chair.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Your feet dressed in hardy pointed boots,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n staggered with your legs crossed.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n You own the chair that you sit on<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n and are the owner of all that will come to pass<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n for our family,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n long after the time of this photo circa 1910,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n a young bride at the brink of creating a history<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n with her own hands and body.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Looking right at us in the eye.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Don\u2019t come here<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n