Sixteenth Poem

Let me be mad.
Let me be angry.
Let me use the words you are so scared of hearing.
You're so worried about pleasing everyone.
That you can't even remember your own emotion.
Suddenly it's about putting on a façade to not scare away potential allies.
Suddenly it's no longer about anger.
It's about making them comfortable.
Something PG-13.
Truth be told, not all my actions are for people.
Truth be told, my life isn't suitable for adult children.
R stands for raw in this R-rated adventure.
This country isn't rated for everyone's pleasure.
"Not fit for kids" may not win me a spot on your shelf of tokenism,
But it sure will win me one more key to freedom.
And there you will be,
Plastic smile and all,
Snatching the key from my hand,
Opening the door,
Pushing me aside,
So your smile is the first the camera captures on the other end,
While I fall back and guide my brothers and sisters through.
See, because my anger tends to develop into something beautiful.
You call yourself levelheaded,
With a practiced, plastic grin that never matches your eyes.
I call myself balanced,
By my emotion that dances with my body.
My anger can have my feet marchin' up and down mountains
Can have my steps chase out your passive liberalism.
My sadness can have my hands holding others,
Can have them lighting candles in every mourning soul.
My hope can have my mind strategizing for hours on end,
Can have it run on paper so others can read.
My determination can keep my body energized after hours of negotiations,
Can have it function at 3AM because each minute, each step,
Each breath leads me to the next door, the next window, the next ceiling.
Don't talk to me about baby steps
Grow the hell up. They're called stages.
Feel mad.
Feel sad.
Feel hopeful.
Feel determined.
Feel it with your entire body!
Maybe it will finally fix that botox look on your face,
Injected by the very people you want to please.
Don't be surprised when every key you receive or snatch doesn't work.
Or be surprised, uncomfortable smile, confused eyes and all.
But step aside because I'm going to push through the door anyway.
Go ahead and shale your head as the media labels me as impatient, angry, disorderly.
I'd rather crash and burn at the consequence of my own fire
Than the matches and fuel of those who only wish to broom away my ashes.
Awareness of stages.
Senses of time.
Let these be my feet, my hands, my mind, my body.
Let anger, sadness, hope, determination be the beats that my life dances to.
Let my song be truth, even if people find it raw and under parental advisory.
Your fabricated, safe lyrics may win you a Grammy.
Mine will begin a revolution.
But even as the bodies dance to this rhythm of resistance,
I will continue to ask you to join me. 

Fifteenth Poem

(Alternative Title: The never ending interview)

Intelligent
Motivating
Leader
Passionate
Understanding
Caring
Closed-off
Stubborn
Uncertain
Unsure
Oblivious

Fourteenth Poem

If I could talk to 10 year-old me,
I would tell her to keep dreaming big.
That no matter what you think
This society believes about you,
The only opinion that matters is your own.

If I could talk to 10 year-old me,
I would say, "Breathe easy,
There's no point in rushing things
That will come to happen eventually.
The effect of the cause takes time."

If I could talk to 10 year-old me,
I would let her in on the best secret:
Love is right around the corner,
But not the love you get from a boy.
It's the love you will get from the people around you.

You have no idea how many times someone
Will call you kind,
Compassionate,
Courageous,
Loyal,
Determined.

You do not to be "in love" to be loved.
You may not know it now,
But mamí loves you to the end of time.
You'll always be daddy's little girl
No matter how many times you argue.

Your older brother will be an asshole,
But it's only because he's still young
And looking out for himself
And one day you will learn
That sometimes that's okay...but not all the time.

Your younger brother...well, that kid will amaze you.
Without knowing it, you will help build his character
He will not only be the things you are,
He will be better and you will wish you were him
Not out of jealousy, but out of admiration.

You will learn what it's like to lose someone,
You will see new life come into this world.
You will find out that losing a friend
Feels like getting your heart broken.
You will know what it is to build yourself up again.

10 year-old me, you will never be too old
To learn the new things about this changing world.
You will never be too late for a new opportunity.
That doesn't mean you should be hesitant,
It means that your failures open up different windows.

To 10 year-old me,
Be scared, be excited, be passionate.
Know that you are loved.
Know that I love you.
Know that I miss you.

If I could talk to 10 year-old me,
I wouldn't give her any spoilers.

Thirteenth Poem

I have a terrible and short memory,
But if I close my eyes tight enough
If I really wanted to hurt myself
I can remember the day I wanted to erupt.

The way my mother's words trembled,
The way I curled into the corner,
The way we all roamed the house in such silence,
That I couldn't get any words in order.

When they told me that Rudy died
I amazingly did not think of the worst.
All I thought about was his generous smile
That even greed could never coerce.

I didn't expect all the hatred
I didn't expect to feel so cold
But once you learn the truth
It's not hard for it to start to mold.

If I ever thought home was a paradise,
The fantasy immediately left my side
Once I found out that he was a victim
Of gang violence, nothing but criminal mind.

Now you can argue with me on this,
I won't push your perspective ashore,
But I will be honest with you
The hatred has never left, that's for sure.

If I could describe to you the details,
Believe you me you would ask me to stop
Because Rudy's smile was never the same
Once that idiot ruined it with three blops.

Since that day I've tried to understand,
I have even taken the academic perspective,
But if this story tells you anything
It's that the emotions start to take momentum.

Since childhood, I have been told to forgive
I have been told that people make mistakes.
But when I think about his bleeding smile
The Christian in me seems to escape.

Yet as I look towards the heavens
In an attempt to see Rudy's face again
I instead find myself asking God,
"What faith is there left to mend?"

I have heard too many tragic stories
That involve loss, escape and fear,
Which have turned lives into survival and
Tomorrows which are never made clear.

I have finally begun to organize my words,
Something I've attempted since 2011,
But the memories are still hard to swallow
Even though I know Rudy's in heaven.

I will remember that even the most precious souls
Are never granted special favors
Even when living in the land known
To belong to the Lord and The Savior.

Twelth Poem

(Alternative title: For when you say that you have nothing)

It can be so easy to fall into this cycle. 

It can be so easy to notice the traffic, 

The litter, 

The almost black exhaust, 

The cracks in the street that shake the never-ending Monday morning. 

It can be so easy to notice these things first. 

It can be so easy to stress about the mess,

The heartbreak,

The waiting nights, 

The never appearing message that says that you didn't mess up.

It can be so easy to stress in these thoughts.

It can be so easy to forget the tragedy of the sky

That can somehow also be the sign of a new day. 

That there are already people

Who have a piece of their hearts in their hands just for you. 

It can be so easy to forget that 

The glass does not have to be 

Half full or half empty, 

But instead refillable. 

It can be so hard to realize 

That some of the things in front of us

Have been ours for as long as we can remember. 

It can be so hard to admit 

That you are wrong when you say, "I have nothing."

Eleventh Poem

I have never wanted to scream
So loud in my life.
I have never broken down on the road
To finally arrive home and sob.
I have never seriously considered
Ending everything...
Until this last weekend.

I have never felt so accompanied
Yet so empty inside.
I have never thought of nothing
To only have something itching in my mind.
I have never seriously considered
Writing some like this...
Until this last weekend.

I have never felt so helpless,
I have never felt so useless,
I have never felt so pointless,
I have never felt so pathetic,
I have never felt so troubled,
I have never felt so far away,
I have never felt so alone,
Until this last weekend.

Tenth Poem

I'm gonna write this one quick

Because I tend to regret everything I put down.

I feel lucky,

Angry,

Upset,

And regretful

All at the same time 

And I know it won't get better than that.

In the end, I blame myself

For my own confusion.

I should've picked up the hints..

If they were hints to begin with.

Or I should have questioned them.

I should've said that I had a great time, too.

I should've said that I couldn't wait to see you, too.

We were driving out of DC

And all I wanted to do was drive back

Hug you one last time.

Kissed you for the first time.

Even if you rejected me, it still would've been an answer.

It still would have let me sleep tonight.

But I'm laying in bed, months later,

Wondering where it went all wrong.

What did I do?

What did you do?

What did we ever mean?

To each other,

To you,

To me.

I miss you.

I miss my friend.

None of this was ever dramatic,

But it shook the earth for me.

It moved the ground below my feet.

I'm still wondering,

Did it for you?

Ninth Poem

You're a bad person.

I could call you a bitch,

Piece of shit,

Liar,

Fake,

But you are a bad person.

I can't believe I wasted my time

Believing that I trusted you.

I can't believe I fell for it.

It's true, 

We were never really friends

If it is so easy for you

To get rid of me.

Eight Poem

I am an open book.
My facial expressions sometimes
Come out in letters
And my body language
Can whisper in your ears.
I will cock my head to the side
When you say something ridiculous.
I will tap my foot continuously
When I am waiting my turn.
But lately,
I look people in the eye when they talk
And mostly when I am proving
My own point.
I saw my name with the meaning
It holds from previous centuries
Trying to bring my family history alive
In two syllables.
I wear leggings that
Curve against my thighs
To let you know that
I am proud to be a woman.
I let my hair loose to show life
That I am ready for it
To be a refreshing wind every morning.
I walk as tall as I can
To let everyone know that I am here
And that I'm feeling good.

Seventh Poem

If you've ever heard of the phrase
"You have to love yourself first
In order to love someone else,"
You either have to think it's
Right or wrong.
I've heard several opinions on both sides.
Wrong:
"Just because I don't love myself
Doesn't mean someone else won't
Love me."
Right:
"Self-confidence simply makes you
Into a stronger person."
I am one of the people who believes
That the saying is correct,
But for both the opinions already said.
Yes, you can find a partner
Who will love you.
And you will love them back.
With or without a high self-esteem,
Someone will love you for who you are.
Yes, self-confidence makes you bolder.
You can create an image for yourself
Without caring about other people's judgments.
You, too, can find someone who will love you.

"You have to love yourself first
In order to love someone else."
The quote...shouldn't end there.
It should go on to say,
"Because if that person ever
Stops loving you,
You won't forget to love yourself."
This, I think, is more accurate because
Heartbreak is unpredictable.
When you enter a relationship
Because you finally find
Someone who loves you just
For who you are,
When they build up your self-esteem
To make you feel like you are
A gift to oxygen and not the
Other way around,
When they are your only reminder
As to why you wake up every morning
With a smile on your face,
When they break your heart,
They can stop whispering
Confidence into your ear.
Not because it's no longer true,
But because sometimes people leave
And with them their lovely words.
There will be days when you will think
That they were the only ones that
Saw that strength, beauty,
Intellect, curiosity within you.
There will be times when you look
At yourself in the mirror
Wanting them to hug you from behind
To reassure you that you look amazing.
If they ever decide to stop
Telling you the truth everyday,
They will also walk over
The pieces you've become
To get to the door.

"You have to love yourself first
In order to love someone else.
Because if that person ever
Stops loving you,
You won't forget to love yourself...
For everything you are.
Warts and all."
Just because you love yourself
Doesn't mean you are perfect.
It's not easy to realize how great you are.
Most of us still compare ourselves
To photoshopped, unrealistic images.
Some disapprove their own timidness.
Some can count their regrets.
Some focus on their past.
If I had to start listing everything
I believe is wrong with me,
It would probably outnumber
The number of days that I thought
I loved him and that he may
Love me.
He was an unrequited love
And I'm glad it stayed that way
Because if he would had finally said it,
If he would have done something to
Bring us closer together,
I wouldn't have spent nights over thinking
Every detail about me.
"Is it because I look younger?
Is it because I'm short?
Is it because I'm curvy?
Is it because, when I laugh, I snort?"
After days of hating myself,
My angel of a best friend
Brought me back to reality.
After days of hating myself,
I actually started liking myself.
"Fuck yea, I look younger than my age.
I can score me some kid tickets.
Fuck yea, I'm short.
Just means I can sneak around easily.
Fuck yea, I'm curvy
Because these legs are meant to kick some ass.
Fuck yea, I snort when I laugh,
Because if it's funny, I deserve to laugh.
And fuck you, but also thank you for not realizing it
Before I did."
Because when you learn to value
Everything that you are,
Flaws and all,
And when love from someone else comes around,
You will know how to say hello,
You will know how to say
Goodbye if needed.
You will have a list of all your lovely traits,
And you can check them off one by one
As they recite each one
As if they were the original author.
And, hey, it's not bad if they add
A couple of their own, too.

Sixth Poem

(Inspired by Sara Kay's line "Your father is a warrior and I am a worrier.")

I am a worrier.

There are a jumble of thoughts

Scattered in my mind

Of everything I must complete

Before leaving you.

They are concerns that 

Keep me awake at night,

Make me pray every morning,

And taunt me throughout my day.

I know you wish that

I only worry for myself

But just because you're my mother 

And your job is to care for me

Doesn't mean I can't sometimes

Take care of you.

I give you everything I don't need.

They are not my leftovers,

But things I can live without.

I cannot make the same sacrifices

As a mother can,

But I can help you as a daughter

Who  thankfully already sees

And understands the struggles 

That a mother faces

To keep the younger ones

Well fed, clothed, and rested.

I can't give you all my life savings,

But I can show you that

At least for some time 

You don't have to worry about me.

Give me the opportunity 

To watch out for you.

Let me give you what I can.

Let me worry the way you do

So I can be the warrior that your are.

Te amo, mamí.

Fifth Poem

If he makes you over think
Why you do regular things in life,
If he keeps you up at night
Without physically being there,
If he makes you nervous
Just by the sight of his name,
If he makes you look
In the mirror for too long,
If he makes you feel
All the wrong things,
If he makes you cry
Without saying a word,
If he makes you feel like
You have low self-esteem...
No.
If he makes you feel like
You have no self-esteem,
If he makes you doubt yourself
About the decisions you make,
If he makes you feel worse
About yourself than better,
If he doesn't think about you
The way you think about him,
He
Is
Not
Worth
It.

For you deserve so much better.

Fourth Poem (very rough draft)

I'm trying to find the word you remind me of
And I can only think of one.
I'm scared that I am using it wrong
But it's the only one that comes up.
Well that's not true.
"Bull" and "shit" are two words
That do come to mind, but the first
Actually seems more aggressive.
In my Feminist Thought class this semester,
We read texts about the feminist movement.
We go in depth about the inclusion of all women
In the movement in order to gain
A wider and more relevant perspective
Of those being a oppressed
Because, if isn't obvious,
We are not all white, middle-class women.
Intersectionality is a beautiful idea,
But there were several obstacles
Before finding a more appropriate way
To include all types of women.
Within the movement,
White feminism (or white women)
Oppressed women of color,
Women of different socio-economic backgrounds,
Women of "other"
By not acknowledging that they had
Different experiences than the "typical" woman.
But they were all fighting for the same cause, right?
Equality between women and men.
Equality between white women and white men.
To keep this short and not actually
Teach a course within this piece,
The feminist movement did not always
Lend an ear to women who experienced
Different types of oppression at the same time.
Ignorance from white feminism
Lead women to oppress women and their experiences.
But how is that possible?
How can the oppressed oppress?
In earlier stages of feminism,
White women spoke for all women
Because they did believe that all women
Would want the same benefits of sexual equality.
They believed solidarity kept the movement
Strong.
But solidarity is not assuming that
One group of people knows what is best
For all people.
That all of those being oppressed
Have the same experiences.
As hard as it is to believe
That's the way you made me feel.
Oppressed.
Saying that if someone dared to disagree
With the ways things were being done
That it would hurt our solidarity.
That if I had bad criticism,
That I shouldn't say a thing.
That if I said something against it,
I was okay with being oppressed by
The one that is actually oppressing me.
Yet every word coming out of your mouth
Felt like a slap in the face.
It felt like you were spitting at my feet
As you tried to make me see guilt
In my disagreement.
Just because I do not like the way
Things were executed does not mean
I am not down for the cause.
It does not mean that I do not realize that
I am being oppressed.
Believe me, I look in the mirror everyday
Notice my skin tone, my cheap clothing,
My breasts, I know that most odds are against me.
But you know what's really clear, too?
The fact that another person of color
Oppresses my speech as well.
Now you may not look at it that way,
Or else you might have not have said what you did,
But as I heard you speak,
As I heard every word spill out of your mouth,
It almost seemed like you were trying to preach,
But you were a blind preacher
Who didn't realize that every person not yelling an "Amen"
Had their mouth stitched, bleeding
As they tried to get their own opinion out.
You point fingers to the outside for their ignorance
But never look at a mirror because you
Don't dare have yourself pointed out.
You're right,
There isn't solidarity within the community of color,
But not hearing different perspectives
Does not make us unionize,
It only makes people like me invisible, mute.
But I write this poem to make you hear me.
Because I do not agree with you
And because I will not be a victim
Of another form of oppression.

Third Poem

I asked for an umbrella because
It seemed like the most reasonable
Thing to do.
I borrowed her hooded jacket because
She assumed I needed it.
I walked through the puddles and
Made it seem like it was
My only choice.
But here's the answer they never
Asked for:
I love the rain like people love snow.
The first rain of spring and
I wanted to feel it all over me.

Second Poem

Sometimes we get called crazy.
Sometimes we get called fake.
We are told we are not real artists
Because how hard can it really be
To string a few words together?
When I can express myself
Through pen or typing
I feel myself breathing the sanity
That I lacked for too long.
My words make me feel real
To this world where I sometimes
Feel that I am drowning in.
7.2 billion on this planet
And I'm the only one that can
Assure myself that I am breathing,
That I am alive and no one else
Can do that for me.
Yes, poetry is very convenient to write,
But cannot be written without
The passion of life:
The most real and sane thing
I have ever felt.

First Poem (The Project Begins)

They don't tell you how different it is.
You watch it in the movies,
You hear it in songs.
But you never know heartbreak
Until he's gone,
Until he leaves you with so many questions,
Until you realize that you can't
Control what you're feeling.
The not knowing of how to
Explain how everything feels
Kills you the most
Because you don't know what he wants.
You don't know how to be his.
You don't know if he wants you
To be his.
Yet, you dream of him every night
And you imagine he's by your side,
Arms wrapped around you,
Legs intertwined,
No other place he wants to be.
You wonder if he feels the same way.
If he craves for your body to wrapped
Within his,
If he dreams about finally kissing you,
If he ever has the same questions.
And then you remember,
You can't make him love you.