Dirty House

By Rosalva Ruiz (SuperNova)

Is it the lack of will?
As I take part of the couch
I see the kids running
Screaming
Throwing legos around.

My head throbs
Poisonous cheers
Thorns prickling
My already wounded mind.
Bombs echoing my soul.

I take a look outside
The palms dance
With the beat of the wind.
Like two lovers embracing
Acknowledging each other’s presence.
Bodies entangled
And moving with ease
Circling with poise
What a beautiful sight.
My heart aches
Don’t know yet
If it’s by the lovely sight
Or the rumbling inside.

Teachers bleed their knowledge
I tell my kids “eyes on-screen.”
After a while
They get annoyed
And start hacking the system.
Two screens are shown
One with the teacher
The other
A youtuber it seems.

They forget
I know they do
So I become
That security guard
That unpleasant person
That keeps them on a leash.
I try my best to block
Their indifference
Sometimes
To the point of defiance.
My throat hurts
My heart aches
I block my tears.
They seem startled
For the moment
And back down temporarily.

I see my house being unattended
I keep feeling the urge
Yet they keep looking for an opportunity.
So I sit in this lousy couch
Like a watcher
Feeling insecure
Feeling the pressure
Trying to stop
Screams of joy
So the scholars pay attention.

This feeling of loneliness
This feeling…

I avert my gaze to the window
Once again
I see
Those dancing partners
I’m starting to envy them
Such lovely freedom.

I guess it’s finally getting me

This isolation

This impotence when it comes
To the school’s electronic devices.

The attention I give
To three different grade levels.

At the same time making
Food for them.

Trying to stop words
Coming out from their mouths
I have never said
In front of them.

All thanks to youtube
Thanks to the lack of admins permission
On the school’s electronic device.

Then again
grateful for this device
During these troubling times.

The pressure of them
Making a B or better.

It’s all scrambled eggs
Including the eggshells
They keep hurting
every time I chew and swallow.

I guess
Just like a dirty house
That needs to be cleaned
My soul
Also needs to be cleansed.

History In My Eyes

Life is but a book
The writer is but a politician
History is repeated
Just like any other book
The difference
Is the writer
The politician behind the pen
The plot is always the same
Sometimes well outlined
Sometimes lazy pillars
Either way
They both collapse 
In the reader’s eyes
Either at the middle
Or the end
But it’s always the same.
I see sickness of the mind
In these troubling times
I’ve seen how people
Get greedy with opportunities
I’ve seen a lousy storyteller
Light the last firework
To incite violence
And distract
The local readers. 

A mere copycat
Trying to rewrite
History’s thorn past.
Lost souls
In flames
In despair
Segregated
Malnourished
Hunger of hatred
Is what he seeks
Filming second-rate movies
For the world to see
Idiocracy at its full. 

And yet
I can’t seem to understand
The ignorant
I still can’t understand
The greedy
Much less
The influence
Of a mere liar. 

Is it sweet
yet stupid whisper?
Is a movie maker
More important
Than a leader?
Is a barricaded coward better
Than peaceful confrontation? 

Wake up America!
Terrorism is within
Is covered in fur
Doesn’t matter the softness
It was still teared from the prey!
Don’t shut your eyes
Don’t cover your ears
Don’t be distracted by lies
Don’t lose yourself in the fog.
Don’t
Please just don’t…

A Piece of Mind

During these days of the month I tend to be an observer.  Not that it helps on my daily life. It’s just that there is no other choice, either I do that and sit or stumble on anything, or become dizzy and fall. It’s just those type of days. I give a big praise to the doctors and nurses and anybody that has to deal with blood on a daily basis. I can’t even fathom the idea of smell of blood from my own body, much less from other people. I guess it gets stronger as my age advances.

On these days, I’m so happy that I was able to give birth to boys only. They won’t have to deal with this mess during all their life. Well they might get to deal with their spouse’s period cycles, but at least they won’t have to deal with the change of emotions, the hammering on the head, the pulling and itching of your breasts, the swelling and almost bursting of your fingertips, the tachycardia, the feeling of an infection in your most private part, the extra feeling of smell and hearing… Oh, and to top it off with the constant nausea and colic before and during those days. Now some women have it easy, they literally bleed for 3 to 5 days. But not me, no Sr. it has to be from 8 to 14 days.

So yes, it’s not justa a single itty bitty thing, it’s a conjunction of things that leaves no room to be happy, much less enjoy an active life during these days.

Hence, I do as much as I can before these days, since I know that during these days I will be like a lazy animal. In fact, I have instructed my kids on what to do during these days if by any chance I pass out in a dangerous place. The eight year old knows that he needs to call his dad first, and if it’s necessary, after calling his dad, he needs to call 911. The 5-year-old knows that he needs to take care of his 3-year-old little brother, you know, not getting things that might harm them or things like that. The 8-year-old is in charge, so he needs to take care of his 2 little brothers. Unless that his dad, grandma or aunt comes and pick them up they can’t go with anybody else. Otherwise call immediately to his dad, or his aunt and follow instructions from them.

I know it’s a big responsibility for an 8-year-old, but unfortunately life doesn’t give us a heads up. It just comes and gets what it wants when one least expects it and boy if I know.  If it weren’t for my sister’s information when we were in an accident several years ago. I don’t know how much time longer would we be in the hospital without a family member; and she was only 9. (Just in case, if anyone is interested I wrote about that accident a while back. It’s called “Angel with a gum.”)

Since I know that  this happens to me every month, I am in a way training them like how the schools do a fire drill. Is best to let them know ahead of time, than for them to panic and god knows what might happen. Wouldn’t you agree?

Eli, Paco y Seb 2

Paco

He’s a bit of a parrot
Hence me calling him
Paco Pacorro is a given.
He’ll be a great politician
There is only white or black with him
Either you go to the right
Or the left
There is no in-between.
He is what we call
“Gente de raza”
In other words
He is from the hood
He may be 5
But sometimes
It feels like
He is 15
One either adores him
Or hates him.

But the core of it all
He is humble
And although sometimes
He looks like a troublemaker
He’ll stand for what’s right.

This is the introduction of the 5-year-old.

A few days ago
Seb, the 3-year-old
Came running from his room
And as soon as he saw Paco.


He stopped and practically commanded
With a playful voice,
“Paacooo, open your moudth and say aaahh!!

Paco who was playing with legos
Looked at him and followed along, “Aaaaahhh.”

Seb started laughing and saying, “haha you missing a toodth! Hahaha”

Paco turn his head towards me and shouted,
“Mooommm, tell him to stooopp!”

I just couldn’t stop laughing
I wasn’t expecting that.
It was hard to stop laughing
And be showing anger…

Shut Eyes

By Rosalva Ruiz (SuperNova)

I guess I knew
But I shut my eyes
I’ve imagined every excuse
You could think of
But never the color
Never the heritage
Never the roots of it all.

Thinking back
There was a time
When I lived at a small town
I was but seven
And fascinated with magic
Funny enough
A family of five
Came into town.

They were witches
The grownups said
They might put a spell on ya
They said and with that
Voiced barriers were made.

But I wanted to learn magic
Due to circumstances
I wanted to cast a spell
And protect myself.
I wanted to be invisible
To the masked people.
So either I died trying
Or never be able to.

And yes
A magic spell was cast
“Friendship”
The most beautiful there was.
I learned so many things
But never magic.
Sometimes
I was invisible to some people
Since they thought
I was stained
Which didn’t really matter
Since I was having other
Much more troubling affairs
At that time.

I once asked them
Why is everyone saying
You all are witches and yet
You all don’t know any magic?
Antonio’s mom answered
With a pained smile
“Well, it just came to be that way.”
I couldn’t understand why
She answered that way.

In fact I couldn’t understand
How his dad was always
Looking for a job
He often was fired
After a week or two of getting hired.

He was a loving father
He never drank
I never saw him raise his voice
He could do just about anything.
In my eyes, he was such a good guy
I just couldn’t understand it.

After a year
They left town
I never saw them again.

I didn’t get it back then
They were having a hard time coping
Getting acknowledged despite their looks
They barely had money for food
Yet they always invited me
To whatever they had in the table.

Why was I so naive back then?
Why didn’t I see the injustice?
Why did I shut my eyes?

Eli, Paco and Seb

Seb, my 3-year-old
was playing with his books
Not reading them
But throwing
Smashing things with them
I had to stop him.

I told him
Books are not balls
Books are not toys
They are a path
For you to walk on
To learn new things
To discover magic places
To reach the stars
Without wearing an astronaut suit.

To my surprise
Later that day
He made a path alright
With all his books!!
He had such an angelic smile
I couldn’t argue
I lost this one…

Forbidden Path

A Forbidden path
She took in her past

A drunken dog
Is barking at her door
After not finding the keyhole
Howling
came from the freaking wolf.

Pity
the neighbors felt
After a few months of separation
An empty house
Is now making noise
He is now outside his home
While the girl
Doesn’t open her door

But they don’t know
Today was a day of reconciliation
He is celebrating, I suppose…

But not for her
Today was the first day
Of their last chance.

Today marked their reunion
Today was a new beginning
Forgetting his past adventures
His grotesque words
Even his lack of responsibility.

She tried not to step
On the forbidden path.
She did her best
To be against all odds.

Her aunts, her friends
They all were against divorce.
That forbidden path
Too uncanny for this girl.

She’s portrayed as cold blooded
With almost no loving.
House wrecker
And soul sucking…

As for her
A darken veil of hypocrisy
Is all she sees
Hatred for the adventurer
Disappointment from the sweet talker.

Divroce is all she thinks
Forbiden path it appears
She doesn’t care
Loosing all kinds of friends
Freedom is what she seeks
Peace away from that mess.

She opens that door
While carrying her son
With a suitcase on her back
Today was the last chance
This is goodbye
Carry on forbidden path.

When tomorrow comes

Baby can you see?
The stars are almost unseen
Come here…
Let me sing you a song
Of back in the day…
Twinkle, twinkle little star…

But momma,
What’s a twinkling star?

They are like lights in the sky.
We have changed them
For lights on the streets…

Baby, can you hear?
The movements and honks
Of the cars
No more serenade
From crickets in the night.

What are crickets momma?

Hmm? They were jumpy little fellows.
You see, even as small as they were
they had long and thin legs.
And boooy if they sang with them!
As if breathing for dear life.

Baby, can you smell?

The green stuff from over there?

Yes, the residual smell
From those manufactures…
There was a time
When the fragrance of gardenias
Was in the air.

What are gar, gard, garnas?

Gar-de-nias, they were flowers
White as snow
So fragile to this soil
They smelled sweet
Unlike this rusty metal floor.

Baby, see these seeds?
They are my last hope.
Promise me,
If some day we find a good soil
Let’s settle there
And see them grow.

Momma, can these pebbles grow?

Yes, if you take care of them
They need a good soil
They need water and sun
They are our last hope.

So promise me…
Even if you walk alone
If you see a good soil
Give these little seeds
A chance to fulfill their role.

Why alone momma?

Ah, well, just like the wind,
It comes from nothing
And goes without stopping.
It gives a twirl here and there
And also a light breeze
To whoever is there.
That’s how our fleeting life is.

Aww, don’t be sad baby
I’m here
And will always be here
In this little heart
And in this little mind.

You see,
It doesn’t matter whether
It’s the old days or today.
As long as there is love
We can find a new way…

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