escribi este poema en Septiembre del 2025.
en tus lindos labios encontré la respuesta
para la soledad
y por fin pude respirar un aire de alivio
que por la primera vez en mi vida
este comienzo sería algo sano y diferente
algo con la potencial para ser mi siempre
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I breathe in America I exhale out Peru
I’m distant, cold, and reserved at times
I’m warm, nurturing and dramatic at times
I was born in Peru, land of the Incas
land of the conquistadores
and have the blood of both run through my veins
along with their determination and fortitude
I was raised for most of my life in America
and lost part of my language and culture
and gained an individualistic American mindset
I breathe in America, I exhale out Peru
never had a choice in this bicultural existence
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
once again the united states of white supremacy throws another wrench at my community
making it more of a crime to exist as we are
trying to erase our culture, trying to shame us for our heritage
trying to force us into assimilation by any means possible
trying to target us for simply not fitting into their idea of what America
should look and sound like
and I stand up in defiance and say, a mi me vale madre pendejos
estoy que desde 1986, sembrando raíces en California, Hawaii y Georgia
y me quedaré aquí como su peor pesadilla
una mujer latina, criada y educada en este país
que no se dejara llevar por la marginación y racismo constante
de esta administración
y que luchará hasta el último respiro por quedarse aquí
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I found love and it wasn’t at a bar or an app
I found it on the soil I was born on,
I found it in the embrace of my homeland
I found it in welcome from everyone
I met and reconnected with
I found it in the accent I never had
I found love as the prodigal daughter of my country
I hadn’t seen in 32 years
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
as summer wanes, and the days gets shorter and cool air welcomes me in the morning
I feel a magnitude of gratitude and grief for this summer
gratitude for all of the time spent with friends, for the poetry written, for all the growth that happened
and grief for the vacation not taken, for the depression that paused me at various points,
for the things not accomplished
and as the leaves turn, I wonder about I could have if only I hadn’t struggled with mental illness
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must make the best of our todays-
creating community with our friends, reconnecting with our roots
loving our children with a loud fervor
we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must appreciate
everything we have
the legs that take us on walks and runs
the creativity that flows from our minds
the laughter shared with loved ones
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
one day I’ll go on tour promoting my poetry book
and the crowd will stand up for me and applaud
and the crowd will say they’ve never been anyone like me
and I’ll be celebrated for the great storyteller that I am
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
the plane slowly takes off
and I take flight with it
I leave behind past troubles,past trauma
and go on an adventure
to find healing and the best version of myself
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
last time I saw her, she was on her 5th husband
she didn’t know how to be alone, stand up on her own
always needed a man by her side
and even as she aged and her looks waned
she had her aryan blonde blue eyed looks to get her by
it was a crystalized existence
something about her frozen in time
someone had never taught her that alone
she was enough
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
and the roses never wilted,
they just transformed into flowers
never seen before
for a while it looked like they were dying
as they slowly turned gray and then black
but then they bloomed into something different,
a unique kind of beautiful
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
pill popper with a vacant gaze, all of the money in the world
couldn’t make her happy
that big house, her gerber blonde toddler son
couldn’t touch the numbness she felt
and so she popped xanax and oxycontin like candy
didn’t care who she was hurting
all she wanted to do was escape
the suburban hell she was living in
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
gratitude taste like mami’s sopa de pollo
gratitude smells like my lover’s cologne
gratitude feels like a warm hug from my son
gratitude sounds like my sister’s car in my driveway
gratitude looks like me looking at the Goddess in the mirror
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
sometimes I feel like I invade places I’m not meant to be in
I feel too immigrant, too loud, too intense, too othered
but then I remember, I’m not doing this just for me
I’m doing this for all of the version before me
who couldn’t have ever imagined taking up spaces
in places that felt foreign to her
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I longed and longed and longed to feel whole
until I planted my feet on the soil I was born on
until I breathed the air my parents and ancestors inhaled
until I tasted flavors from almost a lifetime ago
I longed and longed and longed to feel whole
until I returned to my homeland
and it was the piece of the puzzle found
I needed to finally complete me
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
Lukewarm response as I suggest coming to see you
and my gut tells me something is amiss
telling me you miss me
but dodge an opportunity to see me
Can’t say why or make plans to see me
and I change my relationship status to single
confused, frustrated
not understanding how I got here
almost begging another man for crumbs
of affection for the bare minimum
