Mama'

Mama...

Las palabras no son sufficientes para espresar lo que siento por ti.

Has estado a mi lado, con cada pasando an~o,

sin juzgar, sin recopilar mi pasado.

solo te interesa mi bien en este momento presente

y en cada momento que vendra.

Y asi, tal como debe ser, eres

Mama.

Y claro, tambien, 

como mama,

 has soportado tanto de mi, y yo de ti, 

lo bueno y lo malo, 

los gozos y los enojos,

 pero cada instante se ha hecho posible

y se ha superado 

con un corazon indominable,

un corazon grande,

un corazon humilde y fuerte.

Y yo digo un corazon porque  el mio viene del tuyo, 

me das de tu amor , 

y el corazon que Dios me ha dado, sostiene tanto de ti.

Tus ojos, como la dulce miel, claros y oscuros a la misma vez,
 llenos de cuentos de vida y triunfos , me han demostrado que los suen~os se realizan.

Tu voz, fuerte y gentil, dulce e contagioso,
 me ha guiado y me ha acobijado durante las tribulaciones, y siempre me deja saber
como es el sonido del Amor Incondicional.

Tus manos, suaves como satin, y salpicados con las cosechas de tu humanidad,
con esos granitos claros y oscuros a la misma vez,
me han ensen~ado como aguantar, sostener,
 y mas importante que todo, me han ensen~ado como dar--

dar hasta que me duela, dar de todo lo que tengo, porque solo asi se entera uno de lo que es vivir.

Mama, no eres perfecta, y asi te quiero. Te amo con todo lo que traes porque nadie, jamas, va ser como tu. Yo te amo, y te admiro, por todo lo que me das y todo lo que eres, y por todo lo que me has demostrado. .. Con cada bezo, con cada palabra, y con  cada abrazo--tan fuertes y calientes, que surgen entre mis huesos, mas adentro para renovar mi fe y esperanza,--, Te Amo. 

Y Le doy gracias Al Sen~or por ser mi mama. 

Mis idiosincrasias no eran para ninguna otra mama que tu.

Y las tuyas no eran para ninguna otra hija que yo.

Eres una buena Mama.

No tengas dudas porque es la verdad. 

Freckles

I remember the first time you showed me your hand 
and shared a moment of your humanness with me. 
You were worried about getting old, and seeing a small light brown freckle 
on your hand 
must have been tough for you. 
But to me, its beautiful. 
You’re hands are only getting softer. 
Your heart only bigger.
Your smiles only wider. 
I think you cherish everything more now--
at least I know I cherish you more every time I see you. 
I want to remember you, all of you, freckles and all.

The other day, you reached out to fix Ayesha’s hair and as you did, 
the light of the room kissed your skin, and I saw your hands. 
Only this time, the freckles were more prominent. 
There are so many of them now. 
They seemed to speak to me, their small cry of reality hit my ears and my eyes held back tears, 
and I just wanted 
to pull your hands 
to mine 
and kiss them. 

Mother, I want to remember you. 
I want to keep you. 
Here. 

I know I can’t and I won’t be able to ever win this one, 
but I want to remember you like this:
Caring for my sister, your hands have cared for so many hearts over the years, 
and your hands have held my broken heart countless times. 
These freckles are beautiful, but they also scare me. 
So I see them there, but look to the freckles in your eyes instead. 
This will help me remember.  

Ode from a Broken Heart

How long does it take for a broken heart to heal?

How long until I can see my heart has more to feel?

How long until your memory will disappear?

How long until this life seems to be real?

Again 

again 

Again

I wait and cry and hope

For something more than what I have

Cause all I have is myself and these memories

They dance on the ceiling--

Images of us , and of what we had

But you never wanted to dance with me.

time is not a friend of mine

and you are just a memory

haunting these walls with the kisses you stole

trampling on the dry grounds of my barren heart;

the white rose that once blossomed there

is crushed,

whithering,

and it seems that although my heart wants to grow

beyond the thorns that seep into my mind,

I am stuck

Like the memories of you fading in and out

In 

and 

out 

of 

time

..

.

...

This world seems like a blur

Before my eyes and beyond my ears

What is left is no trace of you here

And I want to break free

I want to believe in love again

I want to be free in love again

When?

Will time really heal the cuts that run so deep

I wish I could close my eyes and go to sleep

The Girl in The Bake Shop Window

Every morning, as I'm on my way to work, I pass by a small bake shop.
It is as if I could almost smell the freshly baked bread, as if it seeps through the walls and kisses me, softly.
Growing up, my step father was a baker for some time, and that smell brings back happy memories.
But as I smile, thinking of a once happy childhood, I notice the girl in the window.
As she is settling the loaves and pastries, neatly for public display, her face is meek.
Her smile is non-existent and her thoughts seem to be elsewhere. She notices me looking at her
and just as I am about to smile a simple 'good morning'
she quickly averts my gaze and is consumed in her thoughts again.

I wonder if she knows something I don't,
or if she'd care to know what I do.

untitled

She sat , glued to the computer screen, brain typing out words faster than her heart could beat, and then it was finished. Hard work dedication, a lil procrastination, a first for her, but she did it, it was finished.she gets home and faces another screen, except these words before her eyes are slowin her heart beat, breathing deep, is this true? are you telling me he isn’t here anymore? Are you telling me that this life really isn’t forever? Are you tellin me that we are really here and gone tomorrow? No no no this cant be true. but there, among the black and blue, the red becomes visible, I can almost see it now. His body crushed beneath the weight of it all, his heart stopped beating. And he is no more. What about you? Are you okay? Can your heart keep beating after all this? I know it may not want to, but my dear, it has to. You have to keep going, take that crushing weight and push it over , right off your shoulders, cause tho this life will only get colder, there is truth that is hiding behind every corner, just let your heart beat you can hear it growing slower yet bolder don’t let the boulders of fear let you sit bolstered by tears, be bold n behold the sheer weight of Love. The years won’t let up, the pain won’t be enough, and the skin will only get tough, so look up, there is a place to rest, if you only let your heart take you there. It is finished. 

Anymore

thoughts of you
weigh me down
and though I know I can break free
I am afraid to really be me
to be the me without you
although there is no physical sense of you left here
I keep replaying all the reasons
that caused us to not be right for each other
anymore

and I can't help but wonder if I cross your mind

I miss your sillyness and lack of rhythm
and I miss your passion
there's so much that I still hold onto
Lord knows I try to let go
but it's hard when you make it so easy to forget the bad
and remember all the good we had
it's so sad

but I assume that our love means nothing to you
anymore

I hope I'm wrong but I pray for peace and live on.

Shadows

Who am I ?
I ask myself this as I get a quick glimpse of where my intentions lie
Why do I try to write amazing lines and grapple with clever word play
my first bite of the rotten apple
so now all their eyes focus on I
 instead of Him
Where do I begin?
It all started from a passion within but I overshadowed The Passion He Lived
But only for a moment, because the Truth of why I live and why I am offended by my sin
is never downplayed when The Son casts over my shadows and I can't see them again
lets press replay
Where do I begin? It all started from a passion within but I overshadowed The Passion He Lived
But only for a moment, because the Truth of why I live shines when The Son casts over all my shadows and I can't see them again
those shadows like bad flows are exposed and so I stand in the Light, Lord humble me once more,
because I think I can think I can but they flip the switch and I am muddled into the floor
weighed down by the faux idea of wanting to be more
but by more I just mean noticed
will they notice the heart I put into this ? know this, my heart is brittle but this
Passion trickles from something more no riddle to miss, to explore this little bit
Can't ignore this little miss for wanting the world but oddly I denounce it for MORE
Maybe it all began from when the first man walked out without holdin my infant hand
For an infinitesimal minute I want to say that's why
Or maybe it all began from when the first man who took his place spread my purity and
My maturity was forced onto me and I want to say that's why
But to deny these things and their effect on my outlook of things would be foolish
And we know that fools rush in and the cautious just stay wading through the deep end
But im waiting for my turn to go off the deep end because I'm sure that the shore will never end even as I extend beyond the horizon, and I am diving head first with eyes closed And arms outstretched because time never waits for tomorrow

Salty Gravity

excuses
harbored beneath my eyes
"I'm sorry I'm not what you want"

days
seem to slip between our hands
"I'm sorry I can't change the past"

salt
flowing,
unceasing,
pulled by gravity
"I try but you keep
pushing me away....."

down,
it lingers,
nestled in the pores of my face
but gravity always wins.
it rests untouched,
but only for a moment..

my hands
ascend with hope,
hoping to find solidarity,
only to find the salt dancing among black smears.
these streaks now pressed against my cheeks,
and my fingers feel the weight of gravity,
and despair,
as they are pulled violently back down to the concrete.

"Every weekend its the same sad story"

Bridges (original song)

Teenager

It's so funny how even seven years after the fact,
you can still make me feel like I'm fourteen...
completely Helpless,
a disgrace to the family,
an utter nuisance;
like I should stay locked in my room and not breathe your air.
I'm sorry.
I promise to change.

But I close the door and throw myself onto my bed,
try to drown myself with the warmth of my sheets,
and hum as loud as I can.
This way, I can barely hear your yells and the shattering glass.
I'm sorry.
What did you say?

But then my own thoughts break through:
Why did I come back here?

They say home is where the heart is,
but who were they?