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The market in Otavalo is one to see—

woven baskets and handmade colors against hazy green mountains,

the loud Spanish hum of bargaining, the citric smell of ceviche,

a man bustling by, wrestling a live chicken in his sack.

 

My husband and I are on honeymoon.

I feel brighter than ever.

He’s healed the scars

words in childhood left.

 

I see the necklace I want, orange glass pendant on a pink rope.

I talk to the merchant.

I used to struggle to speak, so nervous of messing up.

Never have I been so confident in my Spanish voice.

 

 

 

Note: Image provided by and © copyright Lorna Rose. Used with permission.

 

 

 

Lorna Rose writes poetry and creative nonfiction. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Red Fez, Mothers Always Write, Literary Mama, and others. She lives in Washington State. Connect with her on Facebook at facebook.com/bigthings2 and Twitter @LornaARose.

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