​Las Hermanas de Caridad de Santa Ana
by Vicky Brown Varela


​I remember the nuns / arrived in an oxcart / wheels splattered brown /
with mud I wanted to scrape / off with my fingernails / after being rubbed
raw / in a ceramic basin of hot water / There was something I liked about
leaning out the window / levitating over the field of onion bulbs / and
the nuns swooshing / over manicured grass and volcanic ash / in habits
I wanted to hide beneath / Sister Carmen scrubbed the blue hexagonal tiles /
in the operating room / I only entered once / when that boy cried every
night / and once I opened the door / I could only see his feet / sticking out
from beneath a beige sheet / I wanted to fold / over myself with him / Sister
Concepción loved everyone and no one / repeating that Christ conquered /
death and now walked among us / Sister Engracia eyed me like a bare-shanked
screech owl in the rafters / when I strung that boy’s arm / over my shoulders /
dragged him down the stairs / for air / Sister Mercedes braided my hair / un-
raveling in the wind / when that boy with a face / waxy like a cheese rind /
quarantined himself from those / he loved most / An orb of a face in the upstairs
window / A face I haven’t seen since / And a few days after we buried Sister
Mercedes / at the bottom of the hill / I  smelled the rosemary on her hands /
and knew she was stuck / in the quicksand of our corridors / gliding among us
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​​Vicky Brown Varela attends American University in Washington, D.C. in the School of International Service. Half-Costa Rican and born in the sandhills of South Carolina, she splits her time between the two. Her writing can be found in The Interlochen Review and Litmus and has been recognized nationally in the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards with a National Gold Medal for her Writing Portfolio. You can currently find her writing and farming in the Middle East. 

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Hospital da Condesa, Camino de Santiago by Vicky Brown Varela
​​June 2018