Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: Standing Firm (inspired by Conan Gray’s Heather)

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I secretly wish I was Conan Gray

I try on grace and self compassion thinking of the many times
I wanted to be someone else
Mirroring my sister and my best friends to escape from myself
never thinking I was enough-
I even tried to be like my former metamours-
so smart, so pretty, so American
they were placed on pedestals by my exes
so of course I wanted to be like them-
never understood how I never stood a chance
and how nothing I did would matter
my exes always chose them
they were safe,predictable and shared their background
everything I was never going to be
so I chose to embrace who I really am
a woman with a chaotic history who feels everything with a magnitude of intensity
a woman who no longer mirrors others to gain a sense of identity
I now stand firm in the authenticity of my duality
I embrace my God given gift of my creativity and share it shamelessly
there’s no turning back now that I’m fully me
and I no longer care who loves and accepts me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: not promised tomorrow

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

just me and my entire universe

we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must make the best of our todays-
making 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

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: what if

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

what if it all works out in the end?

my heart is full of what ifs? What if it works out?
What if I’m not as dumb as I think I am?
What If I stop listening to the voices in my head
that taunt me-telling me I’m not good enough?
What if I’m brave enough today
and chase my dreams despite my haters
and my inner critic?

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: complete

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

about to make a life changing trip

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

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: June 2014 Me

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

2014 me in the blue hoodie-2023 me in the red dress,

The ME from June of 2014 sends me a message asking, where are you?
I tell her, life didn’t go as planned-you’re divorced and looking for a place for your ex
but your kids are thriving-your oldest son has his driver’s license and is on his last semester of college
Your middle son will graduate from high school this year-
and your baby is now taller than you and becoming his own person
You’re working 2 jobs and you’re a citizen now and you’ve been to therapy
to learn healthier coping mechanisms-
you even drive now-you’re independent as fuck and live life on your own terms
you’ve even been to Peru twice-
You’re learning to follow your intuition and how use discernment in your choices
in how you live your life-
you’ve discovered your values underneath everything society brainwashed into you
and at the end of the day all you want be is a good mom and a good person
that’s the extent of your life’s purpose-
now that we know who we are
our next step is to plan the future we want-
we’ll keep on thriving girl-you were the go getter and determined woman in me
Even among one of my greatest depressions
You still got up and followed your passions-
And you laid the foundation-we’ll be okay-I promise
I’ll make you proud of me-
Love patty

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: chicha

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

la abuela Mercedes

today I woke up overwhelmed, exhausted and in a fit of rage
feeling underappreciated in all of my efforts
to move my family forward
not remembering the last time I had a full day of rest
wondering how to continue this existence
of 60 something work weeks,
and of course the guilt over not spending enough time
with my kids-
I was downtrodden with grief and mad at the world
until my abuela’s story made its way to a conversation
with my coworker and a small light of hope dawned on me
if my illiterate and indigenous abuela Mercedes,
alone in the world could make generational wealth
in the early 1900s
despite the racism, the obstacles, and many tragedies faced
I, too. will not only survive but will also thrive
and continue to shine my light
it’s in my bloodline, my ancestry to evolve,
push myself forward despite obstacles, mental illness,
or life’s tragedies-IT’S UP TO ME!
as a Peruvian woman living in America in the 21st century
to make the best of what’s been given to me
which sometimes feels like the sourest of maize
and turn them in the sweetest and tastiest Chicha

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: gratitude

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

look at that Goddess, very awkward, very full of herself

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

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: Libra Season

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

me with one of my Libra queens

Libra season is upon us as summer turns to fall-
a year ago, I was returning from my homeland
recharged and determined
2 years ago, I was angry and using my rage
to fuel my creativity and train for a 5k
and 3 years ago, I was a hot and exhausted
Emotional mess among the madness of COVID
And this Libra season, I’m entering it free from
the chains of matrimony
and every expectation my parents and society
has placed on me
This Libra season, I will honor and pay tribute
to my abuela Mercedes
for the independent and strong woman that she was
and celebrate my friends Melia and Quinn’s birthdays
show them how grateful I am for their existence
This Libra season, I’ll set intentions and manifestations
for the next 6 months for the life I dream of and envision
For myself and my sons
This Libra season I’m determined more than ever
to make miracles and magic happen-
And prove to myself and anyone who ever doubted me
that I’m not just a crazy and savage bitch
but I’m also a magical and intelligent one
who’s constantly evolving

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: free

I wrote this poem in September of 2021.

for real

I long to run free in a world free from prejudice and pride
I long to run free in a world free from judgment and ignorance
I long to run free in a world that accepts people like me
I long to run free in a world where I’m not hypervigilant
about toning myself down

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: home

I wrote this poem in September of 2021.

in the thick of my identity crises

I looked for a sense of home,
a sense of identity
in all of the wrong
Places –
man after man
Shopping spree after shopping spree,
drink after drink
all were temporary fixes
for something I never had
a stable home, a true
sense of identity
until one day I realized
these temporary bandaids
were never or will
ever be my home
because that sense of
home, that sense of identity
lies within myself

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: Oconee County Problems

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

exactly

Susan from Oconee County calls concerned about the smell in the air
from the sludge in the farms-
and my Latina working class immigrant self rolls her eyes in disgust
silently mouthing off-
“are you fucking kidding me? another rich bitch on a mission
to solve her problems of discomfort in her every day
bane of existence”
but I quietly listen to her as she talks about how
it’s impacting the environment
and the drive to the pilates studio
because she just has to drive with her windows down
to breathe in the autumn air as her PSL cools down
in the drink holder
but now she can’t enjoy her drive because of the sludge
and then she breaks down and cries
because of the inconsiderate farmers
and I think of 1001 ways  her privilege white woman ass
is being a bitch and the audacity of how, me,
a Latina immigrant working class woman is being forced to listen
to her idiotic and inconsequential problems
but rent needs to be paid and my kids need to be fed
so, instead, I say
“m’amn, I understand”
in my best and whitest customer service voice-
while calling her a pinche estupida pendeja
in my head-
and I reassure with a smile in my voice and tell her,
“I’ll make sure someone get your messages
which is of utmost importance, and calls you back”
and as I hang up the phone,
I want to scream and vomit at the same time
thinking
“I don’t think this was part of my American Dream”

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: I’ll be okay

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

selfie right after my divorce

I know I’ll be okay, I know I’ll be fine
I’m the queen of resilience, coming back triumphantly
After each tragedy
but right now, I need to honor the heaviness of grief
that resides within me
Acknowledge that for a while, my kids may view me
as a villain for breaking up their family
for making them products of broken home
I gotta feel this residual anger and resentment
Directed at myself and my ex
for not being able to make our marriage work
At least I can say it wasn’t me who gave up easily
I was the one who gave my all and best efforts
to make it work
but one day, I had to accept it for what it was
a marriage damaged beyond repair
And no amount of meds, therapy, acceptance
or healing on my part could have saved it-
not when I was always doing 80 percent of the work
and he barely gave me any effort
and while yes, he did care of our kids and of me
he still didn’t help in providing for them,
show initiative to better our family
or even tried to love me
the way I needed to be loved
Instead, he hid behind his fatherhood and age
To distract me
And it wasn’t until the healthiest version of me showed up
and got the courage to put a stop to this facade of a marriage
and stop our codependent story of love
We’ve been modeling for our kids
It’s up to me to break this generational curse of toxic love
or else our kids won’t know or understand
what a healthy and real love story looks like

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: eternal

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

I’m melting fr fr

summer feels eternal
it’s the sixth of september
and we’re still in 90-degree weather
melting in this heat
it’s a global warning with no sign
of reprieve
it’s a never-ending season
that has me sweating and cursing
constantly
saying FML and calling my friends
during panic attacks in the bathroom at work
it’s my insanity I can’t seem to rein in
all the way, no matter how hard I try
and the frustration of it wears me out
and make me want to throw in the towel
and give up