The Lockbox

By Gabriel Murillo

Above the ceilings

Surrounded by aging wood

Lay lockboxes

At the center

Of the homes of my family

We are all aware

Of what’s inside

Of what was taken

And locked away—

Erased from our history

Underneath the skin

Of our

Mothers

Fathers

Grandparents

And children

There are many keys

My copy is fragmented

Built through stories

Through images

And memories

The next generation

Will receive

Fragments of the fragments

Pieces of the emotions

Until all that’s left

Is unopenable boxes

Sometimes I wish

I could tear it apart

Break it

Into unrecognizable pieces

Other times

I wish I could open it

So at least then

I would understand

Understand what’s in my blood

Understand how to mend

The pain hidden in their hearts

I’ll never forget what they took

I’ll never forget what they gave

And as time passes

I’ll know exactly what I must save