I see into glass square-divided faces and rooms
cut off from each other but linked
by sight and sound. No contact,
just wavelengths and color.
Faces stare back from inside the
small squares, becoming gallery
artifacts of a time unforeseen.
We became monuments that are
studied by others. Some faced,
others avatared by their name.
What’s truly behind the name?
Not the linguistic background
or the reason they were named
after their abuelita or grand-père
or shaqiq, but why do they choose
to hide their face?
A student cooks but listens,
a mother cooks and is present.
Present in class, at home.
Our presence indoors can be too much
sometimes, more often now
than when we didn’t want to
leave the quiet of our homes.
I remember as a child,
small and unread, I hated
being in class, too loud and I
was too lazy
to move from class to class.
I dreaded having to walk to class,
to get to class and interact, but now
the faces through the window
do not provide the freedom
of movement despite
my ability to be able to
turn off the little faces that look
back at me.
Contact Daniel Orona at [email protected].