I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in Lima, people sing out loud at the table, in the car
they don’t carry the shame and embarrassment of Americans
they show their happiness, sadness, anger and all of their emotions out loud
unafraid to be cast as emotional and dramatic
they wear badges of passion, grief, anger and love on a prominent place
without caring about what the judgment of others and it’s fucking beautiful
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in 1821, my homeland gained independence from the Spanish crown
who subjugated my people to their whims of supremacy and colonizing ways
200 years later,they celebrated their independence
while, I, their daughter gained my independence from society’s chains
wrapped up in patriarchal and sexist good intentions
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
the plane slowly takes off
and I take flight with it
I leave behind past troubles,past trauma
and go on an adventure
to find healing and the best version of myself
I wrote this in March of 2022.
When I was little, I was often lost in daydreams
about America
It was beautiful and blue
I pictured a celestial and warm ocean
where the waves tenderly touch my toes
I was taught it was a better existence than
the one we were living in
but no one told me that dreams sometimes
don’t come true
and the reality of America was filled with a hardness
that even 35 years later I’m still processing
indentured servitude, exploitation, depression,
addiction,racism, mental illness were just a few side effects
of going for the American dream
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
my mother tells me to dress modestly
no loud lipstick, short skirts,tight or revealing clothing
I represent my family and currency in my country
is prestige and social status-
so I need to dress like the hija del ingeniero-
it’s the remnants my parents hold on to from their former lives
so I’ll put on my mask of señora de la sociedad
pretend I care about trivial things
mask my true identity of being a socialist, a feminist, and a crazy bitch
It’s the least I can do for the people who sacrificed themselves
for a better life for me
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
the prodigal daughter returns to a homeland that she barely remembers
it’s been 32 years since she stepped foot on Peruvian soil
and this feeling is unworldly-indescribable-unimaginable
she was a child when she left
never quite understanding the whys or hows of her family’s immigration journey
in her adopted homeland, she suffered through hardships and failures
but the ancestors always protected her
from drowning in the immense waves of chaos and disasters, she ended up being tossed in
and she’ll go to their graves and pay reverence to them for shielding her from danger
the prodigal daughter returns, and she feels nostalgia rushing into her body and mind
she is finally where she belongs
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
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
What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?
Ceviche, ceviche, ceviche
you are a national treasure to me
your origin is mysterious
your taste is juicy and tasty
ceviche, ceviche, ceviche,
you are an explosion of ecstacy
because you feel like you’re
making love to my mouth
with every bite I melt inside
4/6/2022
escribí este poema en abril del 2024.
entre la selva y la ciudad caigo en un purgatorio de identidad
Caigo entre salvage y intellectual
entre la selva y la ciudad caigo en dos mundos opuestos
que alumbran la magia de mi dualidad
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
thousands of indigenous children never made, never born
Fujimori’s presumptuous superiority and cruel policies
caused this inhumanity, this crime against the most marginalized
the poorest
robbing thousands of women of their right to procreate
a shameful part of Peru’s history
thousands of indigenous children mourned
who were never planted, never had a chance to bloom
perhaps their existence was a threat to those in power
full of corruption, now we’re never know
When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
escribí este poema en Marzo de 2024.
la ira y furia de mis antepasados femeninas viven en mi
ellas me visitan en sueños y me mandan mensajes
que cuentan sus historias, sus verdades aunque duelan,
aunque algunas me llamaran sádica y dramática
ellas me inquietan y me dicen
es tiempo de gritar todas las injusticias
y trastornos vividow
que nuestras muertes no han sido en vano
y aunque lloro y trato de ignorar la llamada de la sangre
es inevitable-fui escogida-
para sus venganzas, para sus historias de redención
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
wonder how it happened-
the transaction between beatriz’ papi and luis
did beatriz have any say in her future betrothal
did she have dreams as a little girl
about her future husband
did she even love Luis or just tolerate him
because it’s what was expected of her
how did it happen
did she wish for a different life for her daughters
one where they loved their husbands
one where they were treated like humans
and not treated like cattle
escribí este poema en febrero del 2024.
huye de mí antes que sea demasiado tarde
antes que caigas bajo mi hechizo
de mis mil y uno encantos
y empiezas a soñar conmigo
porque cuando empieces a amarme
estarás jodido para siempre
