I am my mother, I am my sister
I am my aunties
and my grandmothers
I am our type of woman
It's in my DNA
I am the waves of the raging ocean
I rock you gently in my arms
I am full of love, and full of fear
So deep and so shallow
I am feminine grace
I am masculine strength
An ancestry of resilience
Sometimes I lay shivering
Repulsed that I am like Her
Sometimes I am humbled
Grateful that I am like Her
I slip from my grip
This obsession of Me
I came to be
I let it all go
And sit still in
I sit in total surrender
Resistance is futile
.Digging for my roots,
Through fragrant soil,
Rocks scrape my wrists,
Entangled in the maze,
Rich with the past,
My ancestors are lost in the dirt,
Their names forgotten, but they are there in my DNA,
Marking me with their gifts, their trauma, their choices,
I am not one,
I am many.
11/2017 by Leah Oviedo @ ImpowerYou.org
Everything I would say, I've said before the mast
taken my fifty lashes, and put them in the past
Punishments and transgressions, upon ship, battlefield
my trespasses, may deliberate, but all of them, are real
Scars and wounds not evident, at least not, for all to see
poison fruit and poisoned products, from a poisoned tree
A bad apple, always falls, never really far
revealing just what, and who, we really are
beneath the covers
of my skin
where viruses lurk
in the darkest corners
of my body,
where DNA lives
by the disorganization
of the organs
in my soul
deep within the hollows
of my quartz grain heart
DNA rules dominant
taking me apart
and putting me together
at the seams
The non peril writer,magnificent illustrator,
dexterous editor,all in one of the book of life,
each one, each page,each edition looks and reads
different, yet one in essence, though flavors vary.
We hear you speak every tongue,Latin, Arabic, Hebrew
and in sonorous Sanskrit,you make us chant"Earth is one nest"
Such profuse creativity baffles one and all, ever
is your prime possession; manifestation as well!
The nebulous one, present in each cell,each neuron,
well, everything ever appeared,anywhere in cosmos,
we attempt to know you in myriad means, give you names
that pleases us, we try to possess you in ways even mean.
We hallucinate our cameras of mind, captures you right
with the eyes of science; you still prove to be like music.
In our limited resources allotted by neuron collectives,
we make you sit on the throne, of the architect of cosmos,
that evolves and emerge,and itself erases when time is ripe.
The artistic painter of emotions, that has been baffling,
the mix of color happens without any guide book.
sans blue print of any kind or elaborate plan to execute.
You have no designated place to live, in spite of our wishes
you are omnipresent , the string, player as well as music,
your thought work we all are, weaved in to one from
strands of of ancient DNA things preserved,through ages!
Oh! the one that's beyond the realms of winning /losing
the subtlest of all the sublime that in every heartbeats chant,
love to be a work of art that pleases you, in me present,
Help me from within, in my dissolution as colors,varied
be the painter too and to become that work of art pleases you.
Some people claim that,
Love is a drug,
Lifting you up,
While bringing you down.
But I don't mind,
The temporary insanity,
Mania measured in granules,
Of smiles, kisses, touches,
If you must know the medical term.
And I quite fancy the idea,
Being strung out on your love,
Nodding off in coffeeshops,
Until I embrace with you again.
What a scene it will cause,
In hospitals and alleyways,
Rehabilitation groups sequestered,
In damp church basements,
When I admit this monkey!
"Love? Is there a cure?"
The world passes by as I look across the courtyard, I stop to see the dry world passing by.
Kids riding their hoverboards, men and women making their way to their destinations,
all this with man-made machines shrieking the brakes to halt;
Funny are these DNA-embedded beings contending over who is richest, strongest and most influential.
This is where I am.
Wrapped up in your arms, fingers running everywhere;
The moist soft touches, blowing kisses in the air,
The warmth of your body that sets fire to even the cold October winds,
This is where I want to be.
The quilt that kept me warm has gone frosty,
The hair that ran like silk has gotten old,
The gentle squeeze on my hip stays forgotten.
Ripples of pleasure turned to pain, as I look back, that’s all I gained.
Looking at the dry world pass by; This is where I am, This is where I want you to be.