
Poem of the Day: An Abundance of Love


I wrote this poem in May of 2016.

I didnβt think this day would come so soon
I wasnβt prepared for the emotions I would feel
βdoomed to be another βstatisticβ βwhen I had you at 17
they said
And when at 4, when the diagnosis of autism came
βGood luck to him to becoming a productive member of society
they sai
βNo way, will you succeed ,brown autistic boy,
son of a teenage momβ
they said
Yet here you are –
proving THEM wrong
Here is where you belong
not yet graduated from high school
but starting your first college classes
Tonight
Here is where you belong
despite the obstacles,the haters, society
trying to diminish your light for being different
here is where you belong
-on the start of a journey to success
and here I am beaming with pride
And love for you, my beautiful brown boy
defying odds and statistics,
and everyone who ever stood in your way.
as you write your own David and Goliath story
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

abuela, today is your 94th birthday and I still look for you
in mine and papiβs face
I still wonder how your story would have turned out
if you hadnβt been taken away from us at age 50
I still wonder if your spirit was with me and my son
on that magical day 2 years ago
I still weave parts of your story into mine
since our paths were so alike
and today I wonder if along your goddess cleavage,
I also inherited your fiery spirit and generosity
I wonder if right now youβre looking down on me
confused with the life I lead
or accepting and understanding I was made different
from the women in my family
I wrote this poem in January of 2020. Maybe I was mad at the patriarchy or just feeling weighed down by the expectations that society has on women. I know that for me, it has been a huge burden at times to constantly keep up an appearance that I am put together balanced woman even if I am falling apart.

The strength we have to carry as women
is obscene
Endless expectations weigh on us
generation after generation
We are buried in the burdens
that society has placed on us
since before we were born
Be pretty but donβt show your body
Be smart but we donβt want your opinion
Be motherly and nurturing
but still a working and productive member of society
It is a never ending nightmare to try to reach
the ridiculous standards placed upon
our beauty, wealth, and motherhood
Some of us seem to do it with grace
Some of us are barely hanging on by a thread
Quite a few of us would rather die
than continue with the facade and the myth
of a balanced woman.
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

Fuck you google photos for reminding me of my past trauma and happiness
I want to move the fuck on-live in my present-plan for my future
and youβre here reminding me of someone I long to forget-
βMemories togetherβ more like βtrauma bonding togetherβ or
βfabulously failing at this relationship togetherβ
How many years must past before you stop reminding me
of my love fiascos
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

I tell my son Iβm proud of you
and heβs like why, because Iβm alive
I nervously laugh even though
my heart aches over what he said
Why does America like to play
Russian roulette with its children
Why canβt I have a normal conversation with
my kid over too much screen time
and reminding him to brush his teeth
instead of conversation over what
he should do in a mass shooting
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

to see my american dream I just need to step into my backyard
and look at my holy trinity who call me mom
theyβre the ones I try to better myself for
theyβre the one who make my immigrant existence
worth living for
theyβre my american dream wrapped up in burps, dark humor
and love

Mother of three
What does that even mean?
Responsibilities, obligations, duties
Alcohol and going out are taboo for me
Songs of sacrifices and martyrdom
Are the tunes I hum
Dinner with friends and
concerts are just WRONG!
Soccer games and play dates
Are my important dates
No time to spend
With my lifetime mates?
Mother of three,
Will I ever be free?




Unsurvivable

I wanted you but
God wanted you more
Perhaps you were an angel
not meant for earth
Perhaps you were a hard a lesson
in grief and loss
That I needed to learn
A lesson that I should never take
love and hope for grant
No matter how brief the stay is
A lesson that your heart
can break within a span
of a few minutes
A lesson in surviving
what you think is unsurvivable

When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?



