aqui esta la version de este poema en espanol:
Poesia: Cansada
you’re running out of time to give me a place in your life-
and I’m running out of patience and love to keep waiting
Were your promises lies to keep me by your side?
were your words falsehoods to keep your place as my savior,
my hero who loves to save me from myself?
a hero who’s really a coward- too scared to make a commitment
as my permanent lover
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I bet now months go by and he never thinks of me-
maybe he does when he sees a crazy bitch on his feed
he’ll remember me for a moment
and think “damn, I dodged a bullet”
and then he’ll scroll on to something else
that’s way more interesting
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I grew up too quickly in some areas and remained a child in others –
it’s a truth that I hate to admit
it wasn’t my parents’ fault
they did the best with what they had –
an extra sensitive child with medical issues
it was too much for them to handle
when they were trying their best to keep their own heads above water
there was no extra time for the extra needs and demands I had
and while middle age holds space to have compassion for them
I still need to reparent my inner child
who comes out in the most inoportune of time
and has caused terrible havoc and harmed others
but it’s not her fault or mine
It happens sometimes, and now I’m taking the time
to nurture her so she can finally grow up
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I try my best to take delight in my life and enjoy everything good
but fuck it, if I have to be honest with myself-
sometimes the depression gets the best of me
and I drink and write sad and pathetic things
about how I want to cut my wrists and watch the blood leave my body
maybe I’m just embracing the cliche of being a tortured artist
or my darkness needs a place to fucking go-
at least I’m now acknowledging it instead of suppressing it-
and I almost spiral into a cycle of self loathing
but instead say “fuck it- this is who I fucking am sometimes”-
An emo girl caught up in her trauma and hormones-
Wait-how did this poem turn into–
Oh yeah-the prompt delight
well whatever this is its the best drunk and depressed me has to give
to my creativity tonight
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self-
And while it’s terrifying at times, I show the world my authenticity
and vulnerability
I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic
so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity
in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience
And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless,
Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly
4/24/23
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Poor and Destitute
apareció en mi puerta con una mirada vacía
pidiéndome un poco de dinero para su adición
pero me acordé de su nuestro pasado tumultuoso
y le digo no
ella me trata de chantajear con nuestro enlace de sangre
pero no me dejo manipular
hoy elijo mi tranquilidad, mi paz, y mi salvación
hoy cierro la puerto
a anos y anos de trastornos que ella causó,
que ella me hizo sufrir por su egoísmo
hoy empieza una nueva etapa en mi vida
donde por primera vez siento la ruptura de la cadenas
de codependencia de mi familia
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
Here’s a link to the English version that inspired this poem. The original poem was about the war in Afghanistan and the Spanish poem below is about Gaza.
Poetry: Oil and Greed
otra guerra fútil financiada por los Estados Unidos
y el mundo con los ojos abiertos ve el genocidio terrorífico
que se transmite en vivo en las redes sociales
Hombres, mujeres, y niños inocentes heridos y asesinados-
madres con cesáreas sin anestesia
familias aniquiladas en sus propios hogares
supuestos santuarios bombardeados
y los héroes de la justicia alzan su voz
para denunciar las atrocidades cometidas
mientras los demás tienen temor en decir algo
los único que podemos hacer es rezar y escribir poesía
para procesar la falta de respeto a la humanidad
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
I wrote this poem in november of 2022.
the chaos within won’t let me sleep, won’t let me be-
I worry and worry and worry
about my kids, my bills, my productivity
and I fall into the purgatory of what could have beens
and of my many lost dreams
and disappointment and depression covers me
There was so much I wanted to be
I am the opposite of the American Dream
a woman dependent on her husband
a woman stuck in the depths of her insecurities
and anxiety
who longs to escape from this self imposed
stagnant mediocre reality
aqui esta la versión en español:
poesía: mi nueva felicidad
let me sabotage this new relationship by comparing him to my ex-
the one I still write poems about, the one who still visits me in my dreams
the one who wouldn’t leave his wife or other lovers for me-
my new boyfriend treats me with respect and is such a calm guy
my friends tell me this is healthy but I find it boring
I miss being last on someone’s list
I miss being treated as an afterthought
I miss the inner chaos and conflict that came from the uncertainty
of not knowing if my lover was sure of me-
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
You will always be a secret that I’ll regret
one that makes me full of shame and guilt
one I’ve tried to block again and again unsuccessfully
It’s something I will never talk about
it would cause my inner world much harm
so I’ll keep quiet about it
Swallow it whole
It’s a story of trauma that doesn’t need to be told
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 monotonía
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
