Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: no place like home

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

melodramatic Peruvian Energy..jajaja

my final step in returning to myself was returning to my homeland
once I finally found my stable sense of identity I had desperately searched for
since I could remember-
I felt like Alice in Wonderland
my eyes wide open, my mouth opened in awe-
taking in the glorious sights and sounds
of my birthplace
the 32 years away from it didn’t matter
the ocean, the mountains, the city welcomed me back
Reminding me it had always been there for me to come back to
and the powerful and profound emotions I felt in standing on the ground
that saw my birth and early childhood
made me understand there really is no place like home

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: chalk line

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

always a Reina

I used to be an expert at throwing my own pity parties
I drew a chalk line of the outline of my body
and called myself the victim of my life
It was before self-awareness kicked in,
it was before radical honesty
it was comforting to drown in my misery
but now, if I feel myself treading in a sea of self-pity
I look back on all of the progress I’ve made
and all of the healing I’ve done
and am reassured I’m not a victim anymore
I never really was
I was always a diamond buried under a mountain
of mental illness-and now I shine
with the queen energy that took me a long time
to uncover

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: slow down

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

my soul commands me to slow down and listen in silence to what I need
It tells me to not suppress anything-even it looks angry
another mean and petty poem appears
it’s okay, it’s shadow self needing to be seen
it’s a part of my identity that doesn’t define me
my soul tells me I’m not worst or best moments
I’m more complicated than that
I’m a woman full of trauma search for the calm in the chaos
that is her life

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: another day

Aqui esta la version en espanol:

Poesia: Solo y Agotado

another illegal dies under suspicious circumstances and no one cares
or mourns him,
some even comment on how he should have stayed in his country-
and it’s hard to understand the inhumanity, the hateful rhetoric
Is his life worth less because of his ethnicity and immigration status?

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: cuatro años

Here’s the English version of this poem:

Poetry:Childhood Lies

buscando paz y seguridad-
mis padres dejaron nuestra patria por otra-
pensando que sería una mejor vida para todos
nunca pensaron que seríamos menospreciados
y maltratados por cuatro años
por nuestra falta de inglés y documentos

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: saint tracey

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me with my oldest in 1998

saint tracey assured me my life wasn’t over
she showed me love and compassion
when everyone else shunned me
she accepted me for who I was
and encouraged me to follow the path of success
she saw the hidden potential in me
when other teachers saw laziness
she was a prayer from God
sent to me to remind me
my mistakes don’t define me
and that I was still worthy of the love
and goodness in the world

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: target

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

Family life in the 80s
Family life in the 80s

my aunt treated us like we were inferior and subhuman
constantly pointing out our flaws with subtle sarcasm
putting pressure on my mom to choose her over us
insulting my father or sister
what about us made her project her insecurities
Was it my dad’s intelligence or my sister’s beauty?
or maybe she really hated my mom for having everything she didn’t have
a loving and doting husband
and all healthy children
What made us a target for my aunt’s abuse?

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: first grade

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me in 1987 in first grade

in first grade, I learned to be ashamed and embarrassed of who I was,
and where I came from
maybe the nuns were ignorant of the damage they were doing
and since that time I’ve had identity issues
for years, i gave up my language and my heritage in order to fit in-
to have proximity to being an American
but all it did was fuck up my identity
and while I have forgiven the nuns for the damage done
I have a hard time finding compassion for myself
I have a hard time letting go the guilt
For the pain I caused my family
I have a hard time understanding I was just a kid
desperately trying to fit in, to belong, to be accepted
to conform of the standards of being American society fed me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: integration

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

ready to get to integration


The scared and anxious little girl and the insecure and clingy woman tug at me-
I try to avoid them and lock them up in a box, but it never happens that way
They refuse to go away when a trigger of trauma visits me
And once again, I am lost in the alter ego I made up to protect myself
the one who shows up in confidence and screams through her poetry
but if I want to reach integration
I need to allow the little girl and the insecure woman space to reside within me
and honor them with powerful words of praise
because they, too, were part of my strength and resilience through the many traumas
It may feel painful at times-but for me to get to become a whole person
and reach emotional maturity – I need to walk hand in hand with the ones
who made me the powerful and confident woman I currently am

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: you won’t win

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

I’ll still joke while I’m miserable-I’m a whole different kind of vibe

When I start to lose myself, death calls out to me
like a potential lover
it whispers my name and invades my thoughts
it shows me the many ways to chase it
Drive as fast as you can and lose control(no one has to know)
Accidentally take too many of your prescription meds
(they’ll say you weren’t feeling well that day)
or go for a dramatic effect and cut your wrists
with your razor from work
(oops you mistook your skin for a box)
Death tries to tempt me in many ways
and I count to 10 and scream
this time you won’t win

Posted on by pattytacuri

ride a motorcycle

Daily writing prompt
What could you try for the first time?
View all responses

Oxapampa, Peru

I’d love to ride a motorcycle for the first time in Oxapampa, Peru. It’s something that used to seem so scary to me but when I saw whole families riding motorcycles in Oxapampa in April on this year, I thought I want to do that. I’m sure I can make this happen on my next trip there.