* It was a hard time when I made this poem. I guess we always look for miracles when life seems threatened; so we search for our closest means of faith that embodies our family dogma. Yet we forget that we are the ones doing this to nature, so there is no need of miracles, just a need of consciousness and action…
The sky is baby blue There are twinkling lights in the night As if they were counting Seconds in our lives.
Flowers smell of love Rose’s petals so soft As delicate as is Gives us hope What a sight!
Kids play in the wild As if it were part of their homes Drip drops falling from above The rainy season arrives Giving us water To wash our souls.
There’s pollution in the air Calamities are astray As if they were counting Seconds in our lives.
Manufacturers smell of green They also drain their bane Water-like looks so soft As delicate as is Dear Lord! Cancer! What a sight!
We have stayed in our homes for a while Confined by this covid-19 Drip drops are falling through our skin “End of times” dogma arrives Scaring us, warning us To wash our souls.
** This was first published in the 7th volume of The Chachalaca Review
I am the mermaid That sings her notes Calling who ever approaches Enchanting their minds With imagination Beyond their sight.
I am that astronaut That reaches the stars That breaks them apart Forming the powder Of magic itself.
I’m the wizard That wonders in fantasyland That comes out of books And enchants this land.
I am that shape shifter That hurts all around That’s beyond comprehension That’s learning her transformation And runs towards a new destination.
Yes, I am that princess in distress That waits for her prince The savior of her dreams.
I’m also that introvert That breaks from her binds That has a strong sense of justice Elixir for her great powers To help the people around.
Yes, I am that writer That once wanted to become An infinity of possibilities Yet her calling is this.
From immature beliefs That now have become Written words as it seems. Like that butterfly That has just come out of her cocoon Barely opening her wings Engaging into this wonderful world.
I morph into my protagonist Although I suffer her losses I also enjoy her road of achievements. However, I’m also a villain That’s a Machiavellian And enjoys her sadistic approach Killing all that comes in her way.
Yes, I finally put it into words A storyteller in the making I’m a writer That morphs Into this world of possibilities.
A broken doll I have at my home It’s quite old Yet precious Unique and bold.
She looks fine When given a glance. Her eyes have become unique Compared to today’s Doll features at the mall.
One can tell Her faint smile has passed Through decades of soaked experiences As well as bright sunny days.
She seems rough to the touch Yet she’s soft and fragile Like any other doll.
There is only one thing That stings this poor doll A broken record inside her soul. She’s not able to express herself. Only broken words come out as her sound.
I’ve thought of replacing her device But then again That would change Her all.
You see She’s got the loveliest Of songs Unique to her all.
So I’ve decided To pull out that old rusty disc Polish it Fix some of the bumps And also replace Some of the broken strings.
It’s a big hassle But it’s well worth it. To give some love To that Which has been forgotten.
After finishing Putting everything in place I wound it up It was just that perfect place.
I could almost hear the words “Your faith was strong But you needed proof”… I felt the string Resonating with my heart It’s true I have felt like that I guess it’s my curiosity Always getting the best of me. I watched my classic doll All fixed up As I was hearing the song And then That part That brings redemption Into my soul “There is a blaze of light In every word It doesn’t matter Which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah”…
Just a beautiful song Coming from my quite Unique And lovely doll.
I guess It’s like advice given From my grandparents Who I’ve never known.
Wintertime Cold and blackout time People are starving Thirsty and without a dime.
Pandemic time as well As panic time No light to heat Food in freezer Has gone bad Since yesterday.
There should be a distance Between people Covid is still at large Yet forced we are Abandoning our shelters For food supplies And anything That might warm us up. Since what we had is perished Due to lack of light.
But… It’s not just us It’s the whole community We are all suffering The big board game The untouchables are playing. We’re mere pieces To toss and turn To give some light Or to freeze to death.
Zone of disaster we are called Yet I see all of those big houses With brilliant lights. They tell us to unplug everything They tell us to keep a low temperature In our thermostat. They tell us is our fault!
Yet… I see those big houses With Christmas lights I see the businesses Having their best time.
Is it just me? Or is this Just another political gamble Just another way to torture The masses in order To win some big bucks The old way…
Behind this door I saw a being mythical to me With the most beautiful eyes Baby blue Almost blurred.
Behind this door I felt inexplicable feelings. Curiosity as I held this knob Stilly I briefly opened the door Afraid of alerting that being. Her Who had to see her son As her brother. Her That I almost know nothing about.
Just like a legend Unbelievable until you see. Hidden behind this door Afraid to scare the fairy away Thanks to that existence I’m able to breathe Yet I’m nonexistent in her life.
I’m only twelve Why? Why is it hard to understand? I’ve been given a great chance To at least see her From afar Yet why am I so greedy…
Behind this door I met my other self This envious being Of those close to her Of those who can hug her Of those who can be patted by her Of those who can be praised by her Of those who can sit next to her.
Envy Since I don’t share any traits with her. She’s like a royal pearl I’m but chocolate milk. Her wide baby blue eyes Against my slanted hazy eyes.
Nothing seems to link me to her That beautiful being Only this invisible red thing That flows in my being.
Behind this door I was astonished To the point of crying I felt the hidden longing At least a warm hug At least to be acknowledged At least to feel my existence. At least…
That was my first and last Encounter with my grandmother Behind this door Quietly admiring her That fairy that can not see But only hear That fairy That never knew my existence Yet she is engraved in mine…
I wouldn’t say It’s a poem per say It’s an out cry From inside Bleeding lines Looking for a healing tonic To induce an unfinished scar While praying this pain Is but another past Another world I can cast aside Another reality Written in paper With this humble hand Deliberating If I should also give it breath Or just burn it As if a secret mission Never to be known.
Raw honey That smoothens My rough throat Untying this knot Giving reign To this voice To this pen To this written page.
Glass like tears Melted Purified water To be drank again And again Until others knots Are untied as well.
Raw words Not beautified Just outlined A beginning to an end And end to begin That is all…