What is a hero. Who does he look like..
The father who makes time for his children and loves them with all his heart. Who never holds back to show them he cares and always supports their ideas and decisions..
The single mother who crawled out of a drug hole to better herself and become a woman after a lifetime of childhood and hiding behind closed doors and dark rooms, who now sees light and a path..
The warrior who knew his calling was greater than desks and lectures, who felt a passion in his heart for our country and therefore decided to protect us all while he endured the worst..

We can all be heroes.. We all need to be saved.. We all face life struggles in our different ways..

Little black bird,
I was once you
I died inside myself and hung in the shadows
There was nothing on this earth lonelier than I was
Just as you write

I was once you
I saw a slight glimmer on earth and that was only a puddle beneath my feet from my tears falling off my face
I saw humanity but nothing worth saving
I felt nothing and screamed inside all day long until it was time to finally rest for a few hours
I answered questions doubtfully and walked alone

I was once you
Silence understood me better than anyone could ever begin to
Darkness was my best friend
Love was my enemy
Family was a foreign concept
The sidewalk knew me better than I wanted to admit
My diary stared me back in the face and mocked me
The mirror couldn't stand me
My eyes were always hazy
And music was my savior

The realm in which I lived was heavy
Every day was an ongoing battle of depression and it was never ending
Life was a sick joke and happiness did not exist. Ever.

Because I was once you,
I know that you are great.
I know how beautiful you really are inside
Beneath the destruction,
In the place where nobody else knows where to find
Someplace you have not yet discovered

Trust me little black bird,
You may be small but you are not overlooked.
You may feel weak
But you are stronger than you realize.

And one day he said to me
*Do not be fearful when I leave
Do not hide, and do not weep
We shall meet every night- in your dreams.

You were everything, I was nothing.

"Quit,"
She says
"Quit,
Just quit
I know you can if you want to
So just do it.
You can do anything"
And I see poetry
In confused conversation
Its almost as though she's saying
That she believes in me

I wasn't a rose, nor a bud,
I wasnt blooming in love,
I did not have thorns,
I wasn't green either,
I tell you, I am not a flower

I'm made out of flesh and bones,
I have a spinal cord to stand tall,
I'm made with a brain system,
God gave me my intellect.

Thus I'm like the roots of a plant,
I like absorbing knowledge as it was water
Specially when the topics are hot,
Heating debates like summers,
Makes me thirst for more,

But I'm not a flower

Everyday before dusk turns to dawn,
I read a couple of poems in my bed time,
I also write a couple of poems before I close my eyes,
and I arrived to a possible conclusion that...

It is the silence of the night:
the muse that speaks in lullabies,
and seduces me to write,
even when the contents of the poems have nothing to do with my life.
I feel posses. In a trance.
As if am dancing in a dream
where words are the waltz:
the music that moves me into his arms.
that makes me gaze into his eyes.
as if we were in a ballroom.
Dressed in metaphors.
Highlighted by the moon.
Gyrating with our thoughts.
Having the night of our lives,

just dancing him and I
Just dancing our way out

into the world where poetry is alive.

2015