woostify domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/latestwordpress/lonestar.a1professionals.net_public_html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6131A poem from the collection Black Dove \/ Paloma Negra<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/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