Lucie Olivas

The pure grainy smell of flour lingered over the kitchen

while my mother rolled the soft tortilla masa. 

Even now, the Spirit of Remembrance lives on in my own kitchen as I roll dough,

I’m reminded of the sweet smell of my youth.
My mind wanders through the nostalgic moments of my past.

I wear the precious memories on my skin, close to my heart,

like I do an old sweater, worn with loose threads.
As I yearn for what was then to be now,

I pull the loose thread eagerly to revisit the unraveling moments

that have haunted my life with

both beautiful utter joy and moments of deep, deep heartache.
As I unravel the thread,

I hear the voice of my father singing from his book of Alabádos,
I see the black Majestic stove

full of the food my mother put her whole heart in,
I revisit the bumpy dirt road

leading up to green mountain land my father owned.
The more I pull, the more the sweater comes undone,

but I can’t resist the urgency

I feel to relive every moment my mind still allows room for.
I hear the laugh of my children in their innocence,
I see my son in all his glory growing into a man and becoming a father,
I see the gray that filled my life with his gaping absence.  
The stitching of life loosens

over time and holes tarnish the crisp recollection I once held.
I’ve attempted to recreate it all,

but all I have is here and now,

so I build, and I mold with these hands of mine.
Ceramic clay becomes your favorite hat, her purse, his handkerchief.
Memories from then have been plastered, painted, and set on to the treasured items still in my possession.
My creations are the placeholders of my past,
It is deeply personal,

yet I continue to pull at this frayed thread in hope

that the Spirit of Remembrance will relate to the hearts and minds of others.
I know who I am. I know where I came from. I will never forget.
 

(Artist Statement Poem was written in collaboration

with my daughter Marisa Olivas. Lucie Olivas, 2018.)