I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I make breakfast for me and my lover as he looks at me
he’s surprised i know how to cook
I’ve deceived him, lied that I didn’t know my way around the kitchen
I didn’t want to ruin my bad girl image
but for him I’ll uncover my domestic side, my feminine side
the side that wants to take care of him
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Resignation
por fin me doy a mi lado aunque pierda mi seguridad económica
me harté de tanta hipocresía, me harté de ser maltratada por mi raza
cuarenta horas a la semana-
me harté de ser el chiste de la oficina y hoy renuncio-
mi estabilidad emocional vale más que un trabajo lleno de pendejas racistas
que nunca me aceptaron y mi trataron como la peor cosa
valgo mas que un trabajo que solo brinda ansiedad
y un dolor en mi corazón con sus cuchillo de racismo y sexismo
me amo demasiado para seguir en un ambiente tóxico
que me mata dia por dia
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
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
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: My Happy Place
anhelo los días de mi juventud
cuando no tenía preocupaciones y responsabilidades
cuando tenía la libertad de hacer lo que quería con mi dia
cuando no conocía la oscuridad y el vacío que me consume
y me llena de frustracion y desesperacion
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
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
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
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
staying sober from a lover is not easy for a love addict like me
it’s crying in bed wishing I was dead
it’s loneliness, making me crumble in a ball on the floor
making me feel unloved
and even though I have the cure with a text
to someone who’d put me out of my misery
I’d rather suffer for a while
even if it is a hell of a withdrawal
because if I’m ever going to have a healthy relationship
I need to be comfortable first with solitude
and the much needed introspection and healing it brings
Life on the BPD 