By Rosalva Ruiz

There is nothing worse than drowning oneself in agony and despair.  Just like a painting that seems exquisite to viewers; to the artist, each stroke comes with exploding emotions that either elevate your soul or bring you down to the depths of hell. The latter happened to me, to the point of almost no return. I didn’t even realize what I was doing tormenting myself with the way I felt and lived, until my 4th child arrived.  It was thanks to my sister-in-law that I met wonderful people who taught me how to love, express myself and say no when needed.

At first, I was skeptical with going somewhere without knowing what to expect; however, once I was there, my life changed. Without being afraid of being dejected, I finally spoke my wants and needs. A world full of possibilities was waiting for me and not just hopelessly await for the end of the day.  I finally understood that my past was getting the best of me, thus leaving me suffering with every step I took.

Of course, this doesn’t mean I don’t get depressed now, or that I don’t get anxious when I’m around people (which is kind of ironical since I’m a social event photographer). Anyways, I’m just saying that now I understand myself better and embrace my sad moments converting them in another stepping stone to keep on walking with my head held high. Not because of pride, but because that is also a part of myself.

Also, my life has been full of wonderful things that I didn’t pay attention to before since I was too engrossed with other aspects of my life.  Thanks to these encounters, I realized that through writing I could express myself better than in person. Thus I started writing almost a year ago.  Even though it’s still lacking in many ways, this is a path I have chosen.

I haven’t changed that much, at least that’s what I think; then again, I know that I am not the same as I once was.

*Hi, everybody, God bless. Once again, this is my story for the anecdote day of Mcallen Public Library. If anybody is interested here is the link:


Esta densa obscuridad me asfixia
Tantas cosas por hacer
No hay tiempo que perder
Mi esencia se aleja
Se desprende y lo deja.

Paz y tranquilidad empieza
El jilguerillo cuenta anécdotas
En bellos cantos
Mientras entramos al bosque
Las tinieblas se quedan atrás
Las añoros y deseos desaparecen
Mientras el canto se fortalece.

Me da la bienvenida
Mas algo se me olvida
Mas que será? ni idea.

Nos acercamos
El sendero es reconfortante
Mas algo en mí me detiene
“Hay tanto por hacer…”
Palabras desconosidas
Mas siento que
Son en parte, mías…

El jilguerillo se detiene
Y con su canto
Me sostiene
“Hay tanto por hacer..”

Regresan mis ansiedades
Regresan mis inquietudes
Regresa mi asfixia
Y con ella mi esencia.

Pesadez se incorpora
En mi ser, mas
“Hay tanto por hacer”
Llega a ser
Mi lema a seguir.

Por fin veo el amanecer…


Buitres rodean su presa
Esperan, desean
Avaricia putrefacta derraman.
Incertidumbre se huele
En el ambiente.
Mas la presa
Como montaña
Serena ante el ludibrio,
Contempla el rechiflido
De los coloridos grillos.

Cántaros de lluvia caen
Enlodando por cuanto pase.
Los arboles bailan sin cesar
El chubazco no deja
Ni siquiera mirar.

Que canten
Que bailen
Que se empapen
Y cieguen
Hasta el cansancio.

Cuando la tempestad
Esté por terminar
La montaña
Será la única
Sin ahogar
Y en su lugar.


By Rosalva Ruiz

It was back in 1986 when my family was involved in a car accident. There was a bus full of people who helped us get out of our truck and laid us on the road. Although my vision was blurred by red stains, I saw her, my angel with a gum.

She may not know that she and it kept me mentally stable while watching my unconscious mom on my side covered in blood. On my other side, my sister trying to cover her pain with her arm on her eyes, biting her lower lip, laying there, as her legs were covered in blood as well. People surrounding us, whispering in disbelief as if we were some freak show from a roadside circus. And my red blurry eyesight that stung as I was watching it all.

She may not know that with this little piece of gum, she showed me the empathy from a stranger that I thought was long lost.

She may not know that thanks to this little piece of mint, I was able to breathe while my headache lessened and washed the iron taste in my mouth.

She may not know that it was thanks to her that I let the police officers take me and my sister into their car. It was thanks to that gum that I sat without a fuss while the doctor stitched my forehead.

And the most important of all, it was thanks to that gum that I did not despair when a doctor took me into his arms to see my shocked mom screaming, “Where are my daughters?!”
This invisible me in her eyes understood her state; yet I still cried while chewing that gum.

I have always wanted to say thank you; however, I don’t even know her name or where she is. The only thing I know is… The bow in her blouse made me think of angels wings.

Hopefully this time with this anecdote I can finally say,
“Thank you, my angel with a gum.”

* This is an anecdote I wrote for the “Mcallen Public Library Anecdote Day Contest.”

It will be held on July 5th, 2020 If anybody is interested on participating here is the link.

Hilos de Plata

Hilos de plata
Pilar de la casa
Se extraña tu magia
Que ilumina nuestra alma.

Veloz en tus palabras
Mas sereno
como una montaña.

Un libro perdido
lleno de historias
De misterio y justicia
Romance, comedia y aventura
Y todas entrelazadas
Con sentimientos en tus palabras.

Se extrañan tus consejos
Alimentados de experiencias
Por causas y efectos.

Tengo grabadas
Tus muecas y alientos
Tus pasos despacios
Mas firmes en cada momento.

Y aun en sueños
Mis hijos pequeños
Te siguen cantando
“Tito, tito capotito
Sube al cielo
Y pega un grito…”

Soap not Soap Opera

My soul
Has tasted dirty waters
Of the unconscious leaders.
There is a need of soap
to wash it away
Not this soap opera
That’s filling our minds.

A soap with the aroma of love
With the texture to exfoliate
The impurities of hate
Leaving our minds
With empathy and resilience.

Let there be peace
Let there be joy
Let others be alive
Let’s recognize
Lets mourn those lives.
And above all
Let’s keep
ourselves safe.

Lluvias parte del huracan

Llovieron colores
y se unificaron.
La obscuridad
que se extinguió
Se intensifico.
Llovieron sentimientos
Y entre ellos
La patria 
Espada de dos filos
Al orgullo acuchilló.
La prepotencia
simplemente se burlo.
La ira
se manifestó
Al sistema culpó
Y todo a su paso
La acertividad
aunque sorprendida
Tuvo compasión
Mas solo observó.
Mientras la obscuridad cae
La luz se desplaza
Hacia los destellos.
Esperanza y desasosiego
Dan vuelco a este duelo.
El año en el que la tierra floreció
Y la humanidad se estremeció.

That is all

It’s not the colors
It’s what’s behind it.
It’s not the job
It’s the worker.
It’s not the rioters
It’s the sleepwalkers.
It’s not the dying
It’s the living.
It’s not “together we stand”
It’s the injustice at hand.
It’s not the nation
It’s the leader.
It’s not the eyes
It’s the soul.
It was not yet his time
That is all.

Nameless love

You are bound to be free
and that is how
I will let you be
This silence is my love.
This smile is my farewell.
I can not say
You are my first love
Yet you are the one
That hurt the most.
The moon is clear tonight
The waves are ready
To sail away.
The treasures are left
Forever to be lost
And the wind
Has set its course.
Pretty sure you will
Set foot in many ports
As for mine
Is for ever closed.
My nameless love.

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