I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
this day of the dead, I’ll pay reverence to my female ancestors
i’ll build a shrine with their pictures and letters to honor them
it’s the least I can do do the generational gifts passed down to me
this day of the dead, I’ll pay reverence to my female ancestor
write down their stories and later on share them
remember that doing this heals something in me,
something in them
blue beetle, spanish music, latinx immigrant representation
inner niña healing
quechua music blast from my car rain, bird flew over my car
my ancestors giving me encouragement me to share my story
it’s my way to peace and freedom
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
haven’t we all been pick me girls at the same point in our lives
with our push up bras, our twirling the hair, our miniskirts,
our not so subtle flirty behaviors
it’s the ways the patriarchy conditioned as to be in order
to find love, to find companionship in order to have a life
worth living in a society that tends to value women
according to who’s she’s holding hands with
haven’t we all been pick me girls at some point in our lives
have we all been brainwashed by the patriarchy?
I’ve tried on the role of the fun and sexy mistress
and failed every single time
I need to be the main character in my lover’s story
and not relegated to a dirty secret
the side chick that’s good enough to fuck
but not good enough for a relationship status
my love is immense and beautiful
and not for those cowards who don’t want all of it
I’m an Incan Goddess mixed with Peruvian aristocracy
I’m royalty and will treated as such
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
a year from now things will be radically different
I will not be stewing in my misery and making poetry out of it
instead I’ll be more empowered, more creative than ever
instead I’ll be wiser and stronger understanding
the rollercoaster of the storms of 2024 was needed
to inspire another cathartis, another catalyst for change
the universe had to humble me for a bit
to remind me of what’s really important
to assess how I’ve been living my life
and whether or not the many hours were worth killing myself over
a year from now this will be radically different
I’ll have a deeper knowledge, understanding and clarity
about what’s in alignment with me
life will be more balanced, more full of joy
and with an abundance of everything that inspires me
everything that brings purpose to my life
My yen to better myself is has become an obsession
causing me constant frustration
being so self aware of my unhealthy patterns
leads me to self flagellation
Oh another poem about how I’m so toxic
or I’m a perpetual love addict
or I do everything wrong when it comes to love
When will I reach a point of enough
Enough with pointing out my faults
Enough of feeling my self imposed emotional claws
Enough of acting like I’m a monster
and how I’m consumed by anger
I know that healing means being self aware
but there’s gotta be something on the other side
of this constant despair
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
my son wants to be a model and I worry about what this means for him
in my eyes I think he’s perfect the way he is
in one year he went from my cherub angel to a handsome lanky stranger
but he thinks he still needs a lot of work
so he goes on nightly runs until he’s breathless
lifts weights he borrows from his older brother
applies all kinds of lotions to try to get rid of little blemishes
He tells me, “I already have the perfect personality,
now I just need the perfect body and I nod in grief,
“already at 13, he feels that heaviness of the unrealistic standards
of beauty placed on him
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
when I’m bothered, when I’m embarrassed, when my inner critic
starts knocking on my mind’s door
the best thing I can do is reapply my lipstick, write some angry señora poetry
Remember the goddess that I am, and take my power back
I’m not some stupid and weak little bitch some people perceive me to be
(that narrative ended at age 40)
now, I take the disrespect and insults with grace
keep my composure, pretend I’m unbothered
even as I fume inside
I still keep on going
I won’t make a big fuss or call anyone out
that story usually ends with me being gaslit and called crazy
instead I adhere to the age old adage “aqui no paso nada”
Really being the opposite which is everything
my anger, rage, grief being the fuel to become better
to prove to myself and others
I’m not the mentally unstable bitch society perceives me to be
the roses died and turned black in fall-
and it reminded me of how many times love
turns into black roses
a sad sight indeed
a sight that makes one cry
because once love turns into black roses
it can never be revived
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
lately life has been a most unfortunate chain of events
and my universe is upside down
can’t tell which way is up, which way is down
I just want relief from this elephant of pressure
that sits on my chest
I know that it will get better
I know a sudden rush of clarity will come after this
but the not knowing when is killing me
pale petals fall on windy autumn day
and brush against my skin
it feels like a soft touch from my lover’s hand
and I feel loved by nature
I feel affection from the source
it gives me butterflies to think of how much
I’m loved and cared for by God
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
the bomb of my insanity explodes and I try my best
to do damage control
tell my paranoid inner child not everyone’s out to get me
but it’s too late and I fall once again under the spell of depression
I try every single coping mechanism and it’s futile
I just need to sit and acknowledge my inner critic
and the dark and intrusive thoughts that come up
Understand and accept that shit is temporary
there will be better times ahead
for now it’s just annoying
I try my best to try to trust the divine time of the universe
but on days like today I just want to disappear
under the covers of my bed
it’s not that I’m depressed I just need time
to myself and not be surrounded by everyone’s
bullshit
about capitalism, society’s ills, and how we all need to heal-
it all feels so repetitive like we’re all barely treading water
waking up with existential dread wondering
which catastrophe or tragedy comes next
it’s hard for someone as sensitive as me to keep functioning
to keep living under stress and duress of life
and the world’s toxicity
so on days like today I just want to disappear
under the covers of my bed
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
love will have to wait while i switch the gears from survival mode to triunfadora mode
right now I can only concentrate on existing and putting one foot in front of another
right now I only have the energy and time to focus on myself
and digging myself out of the latest catastrophe I find myself in
right now is not the time for crushes or new relationships
it wouldn’t be fair to him to invite him into my current chaos
right now I stand alone, get myself together
before trying to fall into the magic of love again
the sunset at el parque del amor makes me believe
in love again
it makes me believe I won’t always be holding
on so tightly to my solitude
it makes me believe that I could have
another accomplice to share my life with
