El Ranchito en Mi Patio

obscuro ranchito.
El lugar que escondía un secreto,
de alguien que no vale la pena nombrar.

podrido ranchito.
Que solia caliente estar,
un lugarcito donde me daba siempre
miedo entrar.

horrible ranchito.
Que al lado de mi culumpio su sombra
solia sombrar.
Lleno de telaranas y ardillas
y algunas cosas mas.

familiar ranchito.
Que toda mi niñez recuerdo mirar.
Ese, olvidado territorio,
que por fin en una montañita de basura
convirtió su estar.

I Shoulda Been Brave

Innocent, little arms
Outstretched longing for a hug
getting shelter from harms

Long strong arms
Reaching down to give love
giving protection from harms

How do you talk about abuse
when you were little
without wounding your mom?

How do you speak of pain,
and loneliness without
making her feel she wasn't there?

Her sweet face, transferring her love.
Her beautiful eyes mirroring your joy
Tender snapshots I can't get sick of

Strangled by dark little spots,
Tiny spots
Overshadowing passages of adoration

Grown ups pushing each other away,
grown ups who outgrew their childhood laugh,
grown ups that forgot how easy it is to forgive.

Longing for another chance to unload,
craving to be little again just so I can tell her,
just so I can show her that I'm brave.

She taught me so many things,
unfolded my spirit to limitless lengths
but she forgot to teach me to be mean.

She forgot to teach me how to put aside the nice
she forgot to teach me how to speak
and not care about others peace.

My silence remained
my pain entrenched like dirt in a
sidewalk crack.

So often stepped on,
so cracked yet so closed.

So vulnerable,
rained on,

Longing to say sorry,
but I don't know what for.
Make him speak!

That old withered man.
the one fate has carried so bold
preserving his mind even at 90 years old.

Make HIM speak, so this
silence can finally be dropped
and never retold...

One day...
I was brave. 
I spoke.
 I yelled at the top of my lungs.

He didn't respond he only denied and angrily 
I held on and I cried. 
Feeling the blood in my heart at every pulse.

I couldn't stop. 
I remembered that she
didn't teach me to be mean. 

I learned to speak. 
I learned to care for my peace. 
I remembered to forgive. 

Anger replaced by pity and I felt the strength to 
enfrentar a la montañita de basura 
en la que convirtió su estar. 


Flor, these poems are really intense. Can only imagine the tears that poured out when you wrote them. Keep writing, girl. xxxxxx
melanie said…
These poems are sooo beautiful!
melanie said…
These poems are sooo beautiful!

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