izy2729 - Hello Poetry

I thought, There could be nothing more awkward than two half naked middle-school girls fighting in the middle of a locker room the imaginative and ingenious verbal warfare of ***** and “Perra” bouncing off the tall cold grey concrete walls of the showers combined with the energetic and exaggerated use of hand gestures and physical intimidation could not be ignored though I tried, even as the others spectated and incited the two opponents Because mi guela always says Las mujercitas no se meten donde no la quieran (Little ladies don’t intervene) I thought there could be nothing more awkward Than hiding my face inside a gym locker With two half-naked middle school girls arguing behind me Until I heard one of them say “Stop acting like a Mexican” Mujercita o no I could not remain silent “What’s that supposed to mean? I asked her, “You know I am Mexican too?” I thought there could be nothing more awkward Than two half naked middle school girls fighting Until I saw both their eyes appraising me Then shifting between each other with their brows raise in agreement they said to me “Mariza you know you’re white” “An Oreo when it comes down to it” I didn’t know that the name of my favorite cookie could hurt so much When said with a strange mixture of disinterest and certainty And I didn’t even know what it meant But I knew that it was an evaluation of my Mexicanness of my identity All the mujercitas slowly poured out of that locker room Not a one making an objection or even feigning interest in what was said to me It did not matter that I spoke Spanish It didn’t matter I grew up able to quote every Maria Silvestre movie line It didn’t matter how much I idolized Vicente Guerro and Emilio Zapata It didn’t matter how I saw myself The mujercitas agreed I was dark on the outside, white on the inside For years, I tried my hardest to prove I was Mexican But it seems that the standards changed every year No one was ever convinced No one wanted to be associated with me No one believed that I truly cared about the Mexican community To this day I am trying What does it mean to be Mexican? I’m still trying to figure that out It must be more than a facha, a look It must be more than music, celebrations, a shared Language, And an Experience It must be but No body has ever told me what it is Only what it is not Which is Me an Oreo And all that it implies A pocha, a race-traitor, a sell out Dark on the outside white on the inside

0

Mar 18, 2018

Mar 18, 2018 at 1:10 PM UTC

izy2729

Oreo

I thought, There could be nothing more awkward than two half naked middle-school girls fighting in the middle of a locker room the imaginative and ingenious verbal warfare of ***** and “Perra” bouncing off the tall cold grey concrete walls of the showers combined with the energetic and exaggerated use of hand gestures and physical intimidation could not be ignored though I tried, even as the others spectated and incited the two opponents Because mi guela always says Las mujercitas no se meten donde no la quieran (Little ladies don’t intervene) I thought there could be nothing more awkward Than hiding my face inside a gym locker With two half-naked middle school girls arguing behind me Until I heard one of them say “Stop acting like a Mexican” Mujercita o no I could not remain silent “What’s that supposed to mean? I asked her, “You know I am Mexican too?” I thought there could be nothing more awkward Than two half naked middle school girls fighting Until I saw both their eyes appraising me Then shifting between each other with their brows raise in agreement they said to me “Mariza you know you’re white” “An Oreo when it comes down to it” I didn’t know that the name of my favorite cookie could hurt so much When said with a strange mixture of disinterest and certainty And I didn’t even know what it meant But I knew that it was an evaluation of my Mexicanness of my identity All the mujercitas slowly poured out of that locker room Not a one making an objection or even feigning interest in what was said to me It did not matter that I spoke Spanish It didn’t matter I grew up able to quote every Maria Silvestre movie line It didn’t matter how much I idolized Vicente Guerro and Emilio Zapata It didn’t matter how I saw myself The mujercitas agreed I was dark on the outside, white on the inside For years, I tried my hardest to prove I was Mexican But it seems that the standards changed every year No one was ever convinced No one wanted to be associated with me No one believed that I truly cared about the Mexican community To this day I am trying What does it mean to be Mexican? I’m still trying to figure that out It must be more than a facha, a look It must be more than music, celebrations, a shared Language, And an Experience It must be but No body has ever told me what it is Only what it is not Which is Me an Oreo And all that it implies A pocha, a race-traitor, a sell out Dark on the outside white on the inside

52

I wish I was deep Able to convey emotions with non-cliché images and metaphors Able to transcend language and words Able to paint images in the minds of others with a complex pattern of syllables But I am not deep I am just sad I wish I was deep Deep enough to drown

0

Mar 15, 2018

Mar 15, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC

izy2729

I wish I was deep

I wish I was deep Able to convey emotions with non-cliché images and metaphors Able to transcend language and words Able to paint images in the minds of others with a complex pattern of syllables But I am not deep I am just sad I wish I was deep Deep enough to drown

8

Grief is like being stuck in a chasm When its dark you are lost Unaware of what’s up or down Scared, alone, and abandoned Sometimes you can see the light above It gives you a clear sense of direction, a goal And you have the energy to try to climb out You continually mark how far you climb each time you fall Always comparing yourself to your past Disparaging yourself each time you do not match up Then after days, weeks, maybe years When the fight against gravity leaves you physically exhausted You lay down, weary, at the bottom of the pit Sometimes you think if you cry enough Expelling all the tears in your body The chasm will fill up and you can passively float to the top Then you realize that the tears never stop The chasm never fills Then desperate you just wish the tears would fill the unbearable void Just enough for you to drown

0

Mar 15, 2018

Mar 15, 2018 at 4:57 AM UTC

izy2729

What is grief like?

Grief is like being stuck in a chasm When its dark you are lost Unaware of what’s up or down Scared, alone, and abandoned Sometimes you can see the light above It gives you a clear sense of direction, a goal And you have the energy to try to climb out You continually mark how far you climb each time you fall Always comparing yourself to your past Disparaging yourself each time you do not match up Then after days, weeks, maybe years When the fight against gravity leaves you physically exhausted You lay down, weary, at the bottom of the pit Sometimes you think if you cry enough Expelling all the tears in your body The chasm will fill up and you can passively float to the top Then you realize that the tears never stop The chasm never fills Then desperate you just wish the tears would fill the unbearable void Just enough for you to drown

20

I like living in the ruins There used to be life here The halls are familiar While the walls are scarred The foliage consuming once vibrant and buzzing spaces The light shining through the cracks Dimly floating in To touch remnants of what was is hauntingly beautiful I like living in the ruins There used to be life here And the world outside is foreign It is loud, crowded, lonely The time goes by and everything, everyone changes I remain a stranger A Neanderthal whose senses are overloaded Unable to handle the noise I like living in the ruins There used to be life here While its absences breaks my heart Solitude is a comfort

0

Mar 15, 2018

Mar 15, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC

izy2729

There used to be life here.

I like living in the ruins There used to be life here The halls are familiar While the walls are scarred The foliage consuming once vibrant and buzzing spaces The light shining through the cracks Dimly floating in To touch remnants of what was is hauntingly beautiful I like living in the ruins There used to be life here And the world outside is foreign It is loud, crowded, lonely The time goes by and everything, everyone changes I remain a stranger A Neanderthal whose senses are overloaded Unable to handle the noise I like living in the ruins There used to be life here While its absences breaks my heart Solitude is a comfort

20

Calling the Defendant to the stand: The Lord giveth and He taketh away Why? I had a brother, my best friends, my person, my soulmate It was as if God had made him just for me. I loved him as soon as I met him. I never left his side. I wasn’t always nice, but I always protected him. As children sharing a room and bed, I slept on the edges to keep away the monsters. The Lord giveth and He taketh away Why? I had a brother, my only dance partner, my movie buddy, my personal comedian God fashioned an entertainer, a charmer seemingly just for me. I always laughed at his jokes, even those at my expense He was Fred, Dean, and Jerry all in one The Lord giveth and He taketh away Why? I had a brother, my best friend, my person, my soulmate In the history of creation God made siblings who cheated, abandoned, and killed one another And then He made mine The Lord giveth and He taketh away Why? The Lord could have given me a Cain, Jacob, or Judah to taketh away But Lord, you gave me my other half, my better half Why did it have to be so much better? Why did it have to be so good? Surely, there must have been others more deserving with stronger hearts The Lord giveth and He taketh away Why? I am not angry, or sore I just don’t understand If the Lord must taketh Why give something so good in the first place The Lord giveth and He taketh away Why? You are God, you are Great I do not pretend to know you or understand you in any way But like Job before me, I humbly bring my case against you Defend yourself! Not for your sake, but my own The Lord giveth and He taketh away Why? Maybe he was never ‘mine’ That is my vanity, my sin He was always yours to do with as you please As am I But Lord did it really please you to put him with me Where is the beauty in such a cruel act The Lord giveth and He taketh away Why? I know people who curse their siblings What did they do to deserve on another!? Did I pass some test in your eyes? Did I fail in some way? In your Great Wisdom Was it necessary for me to love him And not love or hate someone else? The Lord giveth and He taketh away But Why?!? I cannot command you to answer But I beseech you. In your heart, in your love Do you know my grief? With great care you formed me, so you must Do you grieve with me? You once made yourself man, so you must But do you understand what you have done to me? What I do to myself? I beg of you on my knees and cry out for you to answer me You giveth and You taketh away But why?

0

Mar 15, 2018

Mar 15, 2018 at 4:50 AM UTC