here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: So Many Things
la espada de tu repentino y agudo adios
me mato
y ahora me echo en mi cama moribunda del duelo
que llevo adentro-
rezando que Dios tenga piedad y merced
y que mañana no amanezca
porque no puedo tolerar esta vida sin ti
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
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?
here is the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Our Spot
tus palabras me queman hasta que soy nada
fui otra aventura más, otro tiempo divertido
para alguien buscando huir de su monotonÃa
no hay nada más que decir o hacer
fingiré estar feliz qué decidiste regresar con ella
mientras me hundo en un ciclo de autodestrucción y remordimientos
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
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
aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Dulce Realidad
getting to know the new you will be an adventure,
and a risk worth taking even if we crash and burn once again
because there’s no one else before or after who I loved more
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
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
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Last Week
no se quien soy-esa es mi verdad
todos tienen sus opiniones acerca de quién soy
o quien debo ser
Madres, hija, trabajadora, estudiante, hermana y novia
son los papeles asignaron a mi-
pero me siento una impostora, una fracasada en todos esos roles
y sin saber quien soy debajo de las capas de estas identidades forzadas
sobre mi persona-
quien soy, quien soy, quien soy
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Running away from my feelings, running away from my thoughts
I will my legs to keep going as they start to groan
and threaten to turn to mush
the autumn sun shines on me and this should lift my spirits
but the gloom stay within as I run, run, run
Running away from my feelings, running away from my thoughts
I still hate everything-especially myself
Thinking of all my wrongs and how I’m doomed to a life
of solitary confinement
Will I ever fix what’s wrong with me?
and then I see it-a deer a few yards away from me
3 second glances are exchanged it runs across the road
away from me-
and something shifts in me
hope is awakened with a reminder of nature’s splendor
it puts everything in perspective
I am but a speck in the universe
a creation of GOD
It’s a waste to focus on past regrets and could’ve beens
I need to seize the moment of what is and what could be-
and I run on to the next chapter of my life
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Dear Son
Quiero lo mejor para ti-porque te lo mereces,
porque tu no pediste ser parte de este mundo
pero la sigo regando con mis decisiones impulsivas
con mis estupideces
y no se como voy a salir de esta última atrocidad cometida
que afectará el futuro de los dos
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: False Fairy Tale
todos creen en nuestra obra de teatro
tienen la impresión que vivimos un cuento de hadas
si solo supieran como me insultas detrás de las puertas cerradas
o como mi almohada se moja con mis lagrimas por tu desprecio
estarÃan con sus bocas abiertas por la mentira tóxica
que vivimos cada dia
Life on the BPD 