Writings & Letras

To be the spark in your eyes

the “jump starter’ in your step the trigger of your perspiration

I would tiptoe at the edge of Cliffs of Moher

Sacrifice myself to Apollo

If I could

I would

Inner warrior extract, from me, contempt

Mute self doubt

Plant in me hope

Help me rise

For I am

Fire

These thoughts have me soaring, slowly, with butterflies.

In pursuit of the sun light breaking in the horizon.

Free.  

Mis pensamientos vuelan alto con las mariposas con quiénes, lentamente, emprendo el vuelo.

En búsqueda del la luz del sol saliente en el horizonte.

Libre. 

Mami’s purse is her biography.
In her teens, it hid her burdens. Not enough to buy “barquillas” but dressed as if she could afford Banana splits.

Then came motherhood her purse was heavy. In her wallet, “el peso de la verguenza” guaranteeing her girls’ well being in case of an emergency.

Girls all grown up now.

Mami’s purse is practical. Inside it, her wallet’s thick with her family tree.

Grandkids all grwn now.

Purse is big enough to fit her cell, a Revlon #665 lipstick, a pen, a small water bottle, and travel size sanitizer because COVID. Inside her wallet holds her identification and health insurance cards. There are fewer family pictures.
Now there’s always a pen in Mami’s purse and a small notepad for her to write down her reminders. The cell won’t do, she must write things down. She is connecting the dots.

Mami is all grown.
Her purse is her biography.
Feather lightweight.
Where have all her reminders gone?