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anaid87
anaid87
26/F Meztli or Luna another name for the sacred moon that connects with us and heals wounds. Inspiration from the always changing grandmother moon. / / Words are a powerful weapon that I choose to use to spread love and happiness. / / ©Meztli
Pour your heart out And I'll collect it in a cup Pour you're heart out And I'll dissect it when you're done Pour your heart out and I'll heal it As we talk...
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Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 12:51 PM UTC
Heart talk
I live by the moon Change with its phases I fly with the birds singing their tune I walk with the stars holding their light I pray with the mountains reaching for height I keep moving the sea I invoke all you see I'm magic incarnate My soul is a magnet I'm movement and stillness I'm concoction to illness I burn sage with seashells I watch wolf with intent, as she yells...
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Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
Moon life
The rooster sings to the sun, answering the call is the light that embraces all. All at once the birds sing their own song. Awaken by mother's sweet voice. "It's time to go" she says. She hands me a  green cubeta con maiz. The corn's color is purple and white instantly I fall in love with its kind The cold blue morning gives me chills. I carry the bucket to my grandmother's house. With her mandil and her braided hair, she sits by the comal making tortillas. "Good morning abueltia" with a smile on my face. "Good morning m'ija" she replies. I keep walking carrying the heavy bucket. A small room next to a store crowded with senoras. Their rebozos around their heads and arms and buckets in hand. I feel so small so young but inside I'm proud. I wait in line as I greet and make small talk. These ladies have the nicest smiles. My turn, I grab my cubeta and proceed to the molino. My arms are too little. A lady approaches and helps me load the molino. I watch in awe as the grains turn in masa. I bend down and collect it. "En una bolita" the lady tells me to shape it. I nod and continue to make it. Gray like the color of my grandma's hair. soft like my mother's hand. I fill the bucket with the masa. I thank las senoras and head back to mi casa. I hand the bucket to my mom who was milking la vaca. She starts the comal and gets the cal. Her hands slapping the masa like she was clapping. Perfect big round warm tortillas. I was a little girl that helped her make them. A little girl that still remembers.
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Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
Tortilla Memories
The rooster sings to the sun, answering the call is the light that embraces all. All at once the birds sing their own song. Awaken by mother's sweet voice. "It's time to go" she says. She hands me a  green cubeta con maiz. The corn's color is purple and white instantly I fall in love with its kind The cold blue morning gives me chills. I carry the bucket to my grandmother's house. With her mandil and her braided hair, she sits by the comal making tortillas. "Good morning abueltia" with a smile on my face. "Good morning m'ija" she replies. I keep walking carrying the heavy bucket. A small room next to a store crowded with senoras. Their rebozos around their heads and arms and buckets in hand. I feel so small so young but inside I'm proud. I wait in line as I greet and make small talk. These ladies have the nicest smiles. My turn, I grab my cubeta and proceed to the molino. My arms are too little. A lady approaches and helps me load the molino. I watch in awe as the grains turn in masa. I bend down and collect it. "En una bolita" the lady tells me to shape it. I nod and continue to make it. Gray like the color of my grandma's hair. soft like my mother's hand. I fill the bucket with the masa. I thank las senoras and head back to mi casa. I hand the bucket to my mom who was milking la vaca. She starts the comal and gets the cal. Her hands slapping the masa like she was clapping. Perfect big round warm tortillas. I was a little girl that helped her make them. A little girl that still remembers.
Continue reading...
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Consistent and resistant, like the ocean, endlessly dancing with the wind. Bright and mystifying like the stars. As bright as the full moon on a dark night. My heart learned to love you without needing sight. The sweet smell of roses resembles your heart. The mystery of the night resembles your eyes. Like humming birds to flowers, I consume your lips. Like two planted seeds, growing together. Me and you forever.
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
My Love
**The prettiest smiles hide the deepest secrets. The prettiest eyes have cried the most tears and the kindest hearts have felt the most pain.**
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Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 3:12 AM UTC
Untitled
Permission to speak, I am the ally of the silenced and unheard. I am the noise you can't shake. Two sharp points like the accents I carry on my tongue. I slither and squirm as I observe what they have done to you. It's a tragedy what they think of you and how arrogantly they use you for self proclaimed prophecies. No! I am not that! I yell loudly, but only the echo replies. Incarceration, deportation, degradation, gentrification some of the words that burn as I spit them out. False ideologies are accepted as realities ignoring the facts. I am not illegal and you don't have the right to label or decide. I am not a criminal, never was. Don't obstruct my academic path, I will jump each and every obstacle one by one. I was born free, you labeled and shackled me with lies and hatred but I broke loose. With my forked tongue I battle your double sided knife. I am not content with the destructive pattern that has emerged with your avarice. I will not **** for you and I will not die in vain. My snake like tongue has no mercy and will not cease until I see dignity and peace obtained.
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Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC
Snake Tongue
Prohibited and inhibited from the start. Like a shooting star lighting up the night sky. Your heart and mine talked, our minds instantly connected. The tears from my eyes with your hands collected. Our love is not right they say, Our  love is misunderstood. Another day goes by and we are still standing side by side. Those who misunderstand try to to fill us up with guilt. We would rather feel ourselves up with pleasure. The love we feel they cannot begin to measure. I am you and you are me so they cannot deny that we are meant to be.
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Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
Our Love
White smoke dancing in the air A pretty smile and the natural swaying of her hair. Dark lips and a laugh that echoes in her head. Thinking about what lies ahead Keeping a straight face is harder than it seems. For she has learned to fake the difference of a smile and a tear She can no longer make appear. Living in her one way mentality She resides next to fear and goes to  sleep with reality. While having an affair with fantasia This goes on daily it's impossible to interfere But as dreams become sueños they turn into esperanza and that is all she needs to keep her fighting for la causa The session is over but she's learned a new lesson A reminder from her Spirits "Don't forget where you came from  and what you came for. " Then she slowly disappears...
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
The Session
As he kissed me, his lips consumed my tears, my fears and made them disappear. He is the sin I can't stop committing, he is addiction I can't stop repeating. He is happiness in man and love in soul. Everything I am he is. As he kisses me with those soft lips, I lose myself to and unknown place without trace...
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:41 AM UTC
Sinful Love
They say silence is golden... So where is the gold then?   I've been silent but I don't see the profit.... I've been silent and I've been stepped on, trampled on and taken down from my throne. I've been silent but no good comes my way. I've been silent and everybody else gets their way. I've been silently keeping the strains of everyday life wasting away and remaining within me. I've been silent but I won't be silent anymore. I raise my voice and speak for justice dignity equality and love. Silence is not gold silence is copper easily found and not malleable.
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Silence