A life I can live is a life where I have tried tirelessly
tried my hardest,
tried my best
took the risk
took the leaps for the things
that really meant something to me
because I now know I do not regret
having left it all for something that could have been

When I think of how beautiful the world is I dare not shut my heart to it
I dare not recoil from it; I take it as it is.

For the immensity of a heart I am grateful
for the ways life can be gentle even when the waters are rough I am blessed

The things I thought about:

I could never take someone’s parent away so I thought your girl could have three.

I thought of about really having to change careers so I could help you put your girl through school (and get her anything she needed) and so that her mother wouldn't have to work so hard.

I wanted your baby girl’s mother to reach her dreams because then baby girl would grow knowing she could do anything.

I thought about having to become her mother’s friend. And I also thought about her hating me and your little girl hating me too.

I thought about needing to live near them, so you could be there Incase of an emergency.

I thought of the ways people would try to guilt me or shame.

I thought about you dying sooner than me. I thought about those final years and I would miss you.


Silly, that I thought about all this. silly that I moved across the world. Silly that I sit here alone, but true.

My hand is extended towards you but yours seems further and further away.

Can’t make it out in the distance anymore even though we live in the same city now.

What do you do with love someone will not take?

Where do you place it ?

How should you feel ?

Everyone has their own heart and it is not their fault their does not love yours.

As a child they never called me Guadalupe nor did they call me Lupe.
They called me Lupita and Pita.
Sometimes my parents still call Pita.

I hug my legs
apanasana pose
and I whisper to myself
“hang in there Pita”

the sun whose radiance
beams over me sets off the production of vitamin D

the water that runs down my body as I shower
does more than caress me
it cleans me and it becomes the base of my ****** fluids
60 percent of all me is water

the air that I cannot see is a constant visitor
entering and exiting
one failed appointment or canceled visit
and I would be dead

we are always loved by all the things around us that unite to make us possible
what more than the love of this world for these tender bodies
and its temporal gift of a vessel
for our awareness and existence

Deeply, fundamentally how could we not be loved?

I need someone who genuinely cares about me
who doesn’t need to will themselves to love me, but that in their heart knows they would like to greet each day by my side

I need a hand sometimes. I can handle my own, but it would nice to have someone show up for me.

To take a walk with or invite me out for cup of tea

Someone who wants to know how I am doing. If I am okay?someone I can turn to and feel comforted and loved by even if we don’t have much

Someone I could talk to, that could speak back to me

Someone who helps me grow and looks at me with eyes of compassion and gives their smile to me as a gift

I am an audacious
little bodied gal
when spirit calls
I leap
I close my eyes
and my earth bound body
soars

My fear runs right alongside my courage; my courage is only one inch ahead of my fear, but that is enough.

"where are you from?"
"where are you really from?"

Go to questions; simple questions
some
may never think twice before asking them  

"what is behind them"
"what are you saying?

When you ask someone solely based on their brown skin "where are you from?"

You are saying this "your skin is brown, so must not be from the here. Why, well there aren't brown people here anymore; we killed all the brown folks."

And what you are doing is verbally trying to wave your wand and vanish cultures that are present & still survive.


"Silly you, can't be brown and be from America. Where are you really from?"

It is good to challenge yourself
keep changing
keep reaching for your next inner-ward destination
What is inside is crucial
its fruits determine who you are
but more importantly
how deeply life is felt from the breeze
to water running over your hands, to a smile someone gives you

Can you feel the depth of these moments?
What is inside is crucial.

When you sleep the poetry of life conspires with the entire universe
picking places, materials, and dates

just today it leaned over and said “September 23rd” and then whispered Emmitt Till & Breonna Taylor

All I have left behind is dissolving into the past
crumbling most of it
but it was necessary
for it prepared me for the now

to embrace you
to embrace whatever form you take
whatever song your life sings
whatever mood swings into gear within you

No matter the norms, the age gap, the multiple reasons someone might wave their finger at me or frown at my direction while thinking I’m out of mind

If you are a go, then baby I am a go
...ready as could be

Every ounce of me waited
and held in there for you

every & all leaps taken

I trust that whatever crumbles will give way to something better
that cutting to the core will reveal the immense loveliness
that never departs my side

there are times I hid in under the sofa
ran into the closet
jumped into the laundry pile
climbed onto the roof of the house and waited there
for the long night to overtake your body and diffuse its anger

many times you drunkenly lay on the side of the street
with me tugging at your arm trying to get back into the house

many times inebriated you tried to beat the car keys out of my hand
but I caved and drove you myself to the liquor store

and then you would sit there intoxicated, and tell how much you loved me
how good of a daughter I was

many times my mind feels fragmented, like a tiny lifeboat with a whole in it squeezing out air and I do not know if I will make it to the shore  

I sit on that tiny boat and I cry because
it is so hard for me to realize when someone truly loves me
and when they're just stringing me along
it is sad that I struggle so much  
i feel too confused and too inept
when it comes to recognizing love

many times, many times I forgave you
for the sake of my own well-being
but I no longer have to lie and tell them others you were nice to me
abuse is never nice
and you as a father weren't either

many times I have tried and many times I will continue to try
to reach for wholeness

May the weight of the small tasks as well as the daunting ones
not linger on your shoulders
may a day not be lost on you,

money may be lost, belongings may be lost
but let it not be you
–your being– that is lost or your anchor of perseverance
or your nature to lean towards the sun

and if you there are too many thoughts tied to tasks
then I offer my hands and my words as wagons
on which to place some of that weight

let us tilt towards the sun
let the day evaporate our worries as it does to morning dew

It was so hard to get here
so many months
so many obstacles
I fought so hard, dug my nails deep into
perseverance
that now, I do not know how to feel
I just know that for tonight
I must close my eyes, rest my body
and sleep

It comes in waves
the sorrow, but I have sailed those waters
many times before

It comes and I steer
despite the hard winds calling me by name
like they do with many others
out on the high seas

It comes,
this storm in my direction
and I am far from home
but I chose the boat and I took the risk
and still, I would not change a thing

I took a leap of courage and I took a leap of faith
and left fear and left pride  
for my dream was worth the risk of shipwreck
and these tides of sorrow that come and go

her little hands need you
so I quiet my mind and heart
trying to will them into submissive silence

Grace has got us in its hands there is no need to fret or be afraid
its palms surround us

I have faith in all the beautiful things this world has to offer
I have a corner tucked so deep inside my chest nothing touches it
there I keep my fire
there I keep my hope
there the light abides

Me has llevado a la celda de Cervantes
con Rocinante a tú lado
Ahí con todo el tiempo del mundo
contra el muro yo también escribiré



I will write

You have taken me to the cell of Cervantes
with Rocinante at your side
There with all the time in the world
against the wall, I too will write

It does not feel great to be last on the list
nor does it feel great to be ignored
or to be forgotten
to not receive an apology
or any form of communication

it does not feel soothing
or healthy, nor loving and not even  friendly to be treated in such manner

it feels like punishment
for being a flawed human being that regardless of mistakes deserves to be appreciated, valued and not taken for granted

If I desire to cry I sit there and cry
if the feeling of inadequacy falls over me I take it into my hands and embrace it fully. I feel the not so pleasant, so that I feel the marvelously pleasant things that living has to offer.

It is strange to feel like I am right where I belong
when I am alone with my tender mind, my malleable body and
the continuous spirit that waves to me from inside while on the outside, I am surrounded by four walls, two windows, and few belongings.

I no longer own a car, I no longer have a garden to walk out to, I no longer have pets, or trees to pick fruits from, nor grass to lay over just
linoleum wood flooring to sit on and one mug that reads "Live Happy"

Will I become a windchime lady?
I twirl and giggle out of delight
as I put all my belonging away
I sway, wiggle, slide back and forth from the suitcases
to the rhythm of reggae
I don't matter if it's a cloudy day
all that cool wind could surely be harnessed by the windcatcher
and the striker and the rods.

Could you just hold me really tight
tight enough to squeeze the air out

wherever it takes you may it be filled with joy
may the days meet you with exuberance
and may all harm halt at your door

somehow,
let it be so

so that you do not hurt  
because then I feel
as though I hurt too
quietly
without being able to tell you

so may you keep the light
and may it hang like a keychain
from your hands

what in me accepts these conditions?
what part of me lingers here and why?
what inside causes turmoil?
What needs to be deeply examined?

You are free
my palm is open
fly where you please

it is a beautiful world
and it is all yours
this lifetime is precious

I would never clench my fist
or cup you within my two hands

1.
Fizz and sparkles...
...undulated hair and a long salmon scarf
I stand over a running sink searching for you.

If there were fish swimming around my neck, defying gravity could I then reach for you?

Like i have reached countless times,
sometimes i have gotten close enough
to have seen the clearness of your eyes meet me in defiance...
...what do I say to a girl born into this world that smells of ocean?

2.
I met you years ago, when your  hands were small. And there was a sea rotating over your head. The whales seemed to soar above us –and you’d extend your left hand and guide me in.

3.
Your world... so gentle. You could not bare to leave it. When people saw water circle around your fingers, you did not care to explain to them such a phenomenon

that is why I love you
that is why I do not drink the soup of this     world

  that is why I keep sieving their words
  and this faucet water through my hands.


   that is why I wonder if in death I could come back to you but I think I get close enough in life


   4.you girl, that smells of ocean cannot be tamed do not let them drain the salt chuck above your head. As I became you, in me you become the living breathing world...
...inlets flow undeterred

lo qué  brota me acompaña
cómo la lengua pérdida de mi madre

mi piel morena es extranjera
en continente de piel morena

pérdida esta la lengua
cortada y dejada
sobre un camino de tierra

mi piel morena de dónde es
si no de aquí
aún que te duela reconocer
que sobre ese caminito
desmembraste muchos cuerpos

tanta fue la muerte que
que casi nadie quedo

tan exitosa fue la borradura
que cuando la gente de otro continete me ve
y me preguntan que de donde soy
nunca les parece cierto que pertenezco
a las americas  

que raro estar sobre este caminito
que aunque ahora esta pavimentado
sigue siendo el mismo que vio la sangre brotar

It softly whispers to me
"i would wait two decades
if that is how long it took"

I say nothing;
I have no words for the wild heart
that pumps this blood inside.

to be this is a privilege some write, and I agree

to be this that lives
and breathes
is a gift

I sat there
looking out the window
as vulnerable
and as frail as any other living creature
with my wounded feet covered in bandaids
with black chipped nails
with spongy untamed hair
undeceiving

it is a privilege Campbell
to sit here bare as I am
truly it is

I lean further in
because from afar
everything is abstract

The sun is already within you
yours, no key, no code, no price
no person, nothing stands between you
and the brilliance of your sunshine
you are forever endowed with its warmth

You sneak into my mind and I so joyfully want to welcome you in

My friends keep counting the red flags and leaving them on my desk inside little transparent ziplock bags.

If you are to share the open palm of your hand let it be gladly and with respect for the days that will each go by as each hour is a gift even if unnoticed. If you are to look my way, do so with appreciation at least once not lust. You can keep your lust last on the list because it alone won’t get you through this life. If you are to tilt towards me do so from the soul, and then I am sure a lifetime will not seem like enough.

the birds flutter through the sky and some suddenly dive  
only to emerge again from below the skyline and into my line of sight

where as the things below the outline of the cityscape remain distant
life remains ever close and present in the palm of my two hands

here I hold life, as I stare at my purple and green veins that give route to the warm blood
I also witness the unflagging effort of this heart
that joyously flutters too while keeping me alive
                                               ...

Joyous is the living heart alwaysstayclosetoit      a  n  d

i  f     y  o  u    f  i  n  d     y  o   u   r   s   e   l   f    
        
            g     e      t     t    i     n    g               m       o        r      e
                

d       i         s        t        a          n        t

            
                          f
                       ­                              r
                                                               ­              o                
                                               ­                                                      m
      


                                                         i     t

             y  o u   c a n  alwayscomebacktoit;theheartwaits

                            ­                        ...

It does not need to be summer for me to be a fountain where the birds can come to drink before they flutter and are gone from my line of sight or even for me to overflow and nourish the small weeds that too would like to grow and live. It does not need to be summer or be spring or be an easy life for me before I choose to become a fountain spouting water

                                                   ...
"Joyous be the truly living heart" she whispered
and my heart grew wings and fluttered
                                    the things the flora whisper astound me
                                    even the birds come to them for words of wisdom
                                                  ...
were­ we ever apart, the birds and I
we both like to sing and no one knows why
and we both love to fly even under a grey sky

the older I get the more gluten intolerant I become
the hives used to conjugate on my shoulders
now they have audaciously made their way down to my wrists and abdomen

"*** Hunahpu I truly am a child of the corn"
any more gluten sprinkled with time and I reckon
it will be a recipe for disaster

It is raining dear
do you hear it trickle down
can you hear the cars passing by
and the droplets hit your window

the freshness of the air is comforting
it refreshes
not just my skin, but my mind
enough so that I want to sleep and dream
as I lay here with the window half open
I’m still awake trying to coerce a mosquito to exit through the window, but it too hears the water pouring down
and it won't take a half-open window exit

Casting all the fears aside rapidly
before they cling like mussels
to the beams below my mental pier’s walkway

Casting them all aside
because I would rather try to understand you, than let these thoughts grow thicker

Casting them
because I indeed long to know you better
know the mighty lovely things about you and the not so lovely things too

I must start rethinking
I must start giving others the opportunity
to come closer

I must extend a hand
and slowly inch towards something new
as do the branches of a tree
as do I
as does everything that tilts towards the sun
over this earth when it wishes to grow

did traveling an ocean change anything
you are still as silent as ever

and I still feel like I am nothing to you

Are you ashamed to love me?
If yes, then you are not right for me.

6:49 pm
the smoke and pollution blocked out the red sun over Los Angeles

The crows circled over the 105 Hwy
and the whole sky was ominously glowing