PALOMA NEGRA SOY YO

Words by Carol Gonzales
Photography by Sasha Lorraine

“Do you remember when Jay said, ‘ can’t see it coming down my eyes, so I gotta make this song cry...’?”

...

An acoustic guitar slowly began,
a strumming and plucking in the background.
Beyond the laughter and shouting for no reason, other than we were
all there together, and we all had stories and jokes to tell. All I heard was
everyone. Everywhere.

And suddenly, I hear these vibrating vocal cords in this dusty, lightly lit,
humid room with grey and gold peeling wallpaper.

In a man’s world.

Their voice, fuerte y pained.
And I was distracted back then, but that voice—cracking like the black bird they sang of, made my backbone come to full attention.
I sought out that black bird.

I thought I was looking for you.
Reminiscing.
I became nauseous with nostalgia.
It was always you.
Every lifetime.
Every beginning.
In the crevices I traced, in the shadows.
In the bowed head. Eyes like darts.
In that stance of humility and prayer, but never praying. Merely preying.
I plucked you, like feather.
Thought I could be your conduit.
Breathe Life back into you.
Paloma Negra.
This whole time. I thought it was you I was seeking out.
I searched for you in the eyes.
In that void.
With no reflection.
No windows.

But it was I.