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.

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.
Goodbye
My nameless love.

Spring break of March

Back when the day stopped
In March our world had a break
We stopped and breathed
And others stopped their breaths.

A march was on the way
Of no hugs in display
The love was in the air
Yet disease was also there

Unconscious walls were built
The unseen were feared
Robbed we were
Violated as well

The gods were no where
The scientists were busy
The teachers were learning
The kids were struggling.

It was left open
Our lady is broken
Her flame is gone
Nowhere to be found.

Alone in distance
In distance we face our whole
And the earth is healed along.

The extinct are now seen
There is a new color to the eye
A new horizon is in sight.

The forgotten letter

I still remember when my dad got a hold
Of my third love letter. He decided to encrust it on a piece of wood.
Of course the deed didn’t end there, to embellish it, he wrote,”Hija de tigre, pintito.” Which is a proverb that simply means “The daughter is like her mother” of course, he meant it playfully. 
There is a saying in english that means the same with different words.
” the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

On top of that, there were little flowers around it and a small heart on the bottom. I was so embarrassed and didn’t understand the love that my dad put into making that piece of art.
I was barely six, so if you see horrors in my grammar and spelling, you can imagine how it was back then (terrible).
Now… back then, in the middle of our home, dad had a small canteen. There were sculptures all around, from a David to a Moses, he also had some wooden sculptures, most of the wooden ones were either from animals or people from different ethnic groups in Mexico; and of course, just entering the place, that maybe 20-year-old-round piece of wood was hung for everybody to see. He was so proud of it that if people didn’t pay attention to it, he would tell them about it. Of course, at those same moments my embarrassment skyrocketed. 

Now days I laugh about it, but back then it was a thorn piercing my ego. I used to believe in the element spirits, I still do, but back then it was like a law. Somehow, I believed that by throwing my love letter to the ground in front of my house, the wind spirit would use its wind to take it to my beloved one. I do wonder who actually got to see those two letters before the third one. This third one was written on a memo pink paper with my mom’s business logo. I barely finished it, but my mom called me and I forgot it in my dad’s canteen; Hence the all the dilemma afterwards.

The last time I got to see my dad and was actually able to talk to him, I asked him why did he do that with the letter?
He started smiling and said, “It was the first time I saw you write a sentence. It made me proud.” I didn’t get it back then, I guess at 15 years old, one doesn’t understand the deep meaning of things.
However, now days, whenever I remember that forgotten letter, it fills my heart with joy and makes me cry.

Finally free

As she was saying goodbye
The car kept moving
Her eyes kept drifting
To the past memories
The knot in her throat
Asphyxiated her soul
Barely twelve
And she’s set her goal.

“It’s finally here,
I’ve waited for twelve years
I’m finally free!
Free from him
Free from them
Free from those shackles.”

Tears ran down her face
As if shedding her fears
Leaving behind that fake
And dark world.

“My body
finally belongs to me
Not another day
Will I have to say ok
I’m finally…”

She closed her wet honey eyes
And knocked her head on the window
As if knocking monsters away.
Sighed, cleaned her face
And with determination
Faced her future ahead.

That which is like sand

Some say that time never stops
But I believe otherwise
Time defines our surroundings
But not our belongings.

It is wise
It gives us what we need
Sometimes to heal
Others to think.

For sure
it will teach us to live
To some, it comes in a breeze
To others, it comes after a slap.

It defines a new life
It seems long to some
At least to those yearning
Yet it is so short
To those transcending.

I guess it’s just there
To warn us
To guide us
To give us that push
But above all
To give us a sense
Of direction in our lives.

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