Stories

Waves of story –

that is an emotional life…

trauma informed you have to mentally be still,

learn to see the busyness in your body, in your mind, practice

often, even though it isn’t fair you were born into a god damned

patriarchal, capitalistic, racist, classist, sexist, homophobic society

that favors my white Latina skin, that denies my queerness,
that pokes fun at my gender
every   single    day.

And stories- stories are life’s meaning that, in their fullest,
most fleshed out form, make us human.

I want this to be an ode to SBU; to HC;

an ode to Bruce,

my body, my breath;

an ode to my throat; an ode to my face;

an ode to my familia, my Kenny, my mother; an ode to my father,
brother, sister, to friends long lost;

an ode to America, to nationalism and Puerto Rico’s remains;

an ode to my pen;

an ode to emotional bodies laying dormant, untouched,

by a warmed soul lingering underneath,

pure animal energy

born in the womb of the Earth, returning to the universe

once I dare to turn each story around…

December 6, 2017

Be

Being

a human–

what are we

ingrained with?

 

Are we patched

up with our fears,

long before

we meet the spider?

 

Are we made

to go hunting

for spaceships

and the meaning of life?

 

To be

is the only answer,

the only response,

the only real question.

 

So often

we feed ourselves

that which is opposite

of Being.

 

We are made

to touch

the light;

We are made

to be

the light.

 

Or perhaps

we are simply made

to Be.

 

March 5, 2016

The Same

I am everything;

I am nothing.

 

You are everything;

You are nothing.

 

So often we forget

you and I are the same.

 

Let the world

open it’s front door,

back porch, wind blown hair

and feel the essence

of Being.

 

Let it be known

that all associations

and ideas

are nothing more

than stepping stones

to our real life,

made of stillness,

peace and love–

together.

 

August 8, 2015

 

Interconnectedness

Me:

I was tired

of me

being alone

with a whole world

to carry

you were here

are

here, too–

so when I see

the clouds

I see faces in the sky

compassionate beings

sprinkled

like powdered sugar.

We are all

more

than all equal

we are all

needed

every last drop

of the ocean

must be raised up

with a spoon

before we can move on

to a new millennium

and pretend we were never

so caught up in

me,

you,

I know–

now

is the time to create.

It is time to create a Buddha.

February 5, 2015