A sea of silent people with
Zippers instead of lip and teeth
So long it’s been since they’ve unzipped
They calcified like coral reef
And sometimes it is hard to breathe
When your captor is a feeling.
Their words are knives stuck in their sheathes,
At nightfall, they dream of screaming.

Their shoulders slumped, they knew that if
They sang or sighed or gave a speech
Before it was too late, their scythe
Would never have to reap and reap
And reap, but no, they sowed the seed,
If only they’d been believing
But they dug a grave, where they sleep
At nightfall, to dream of screaming.

Their kids don’t cry, instead, they writhe
Inheriting their voiceless grief
No words to soothe the kind of life
That never, ever knows relief
As it was stolen by a thief
And his name is Never Needing.
Their fear, it thrums to its own beat
At nightfall, they dream of screaming.

They waste away, they cannot eat
But now, death itself is freeing.
Their dreams once were the sun and sea—
Tonight, they just dream of screaming.

I am the apple that fell off the family tree.
They say I don't fall far,
and its true.
Its impossible to completely rid of my roots.
But I still have the power to do what those stiff branches were too stubborn and fixed to:

Grow.
Grow from their flaws and generational hurt.
Plant the seed of healing which will grow with the generations to come into a new tree with deeper roots and riper fruit.

It hurts to detach myself from my history,
But it would hurt more to put my children through the same pain.

brain signals for blood:
a freight of the past revs to life;
generational curses come on board the ride
with their hefty baggage,
and roughneck IDs;

the nervous conductor lets them on -
offers them a ticket, and sighs -
‘this too shall pass.’

You are the diseased soil in which these doomed seeds were sown,

You are the poison tree from which these evil apples dropped,

And you are the acid rain that raises the earthworms from their
underground abodes
and eats

eats

eats away.

I am from the apartments, from sharing a room and living cramped
I am from the loud arguments, the bitter taste in my mouth
I am from the cactus, its’ prickly thorns attached
the dark rose, its’ petals slowly wilting
I am from eating dinner together and a loud volume
From John and Sonia and Gloria
I am from the stress and expectations
From not letting it get to you and ignoring it
I am from self taught Christianity, and talks with God at night
I’m from Portugal, Venezuela, and Columbia
Cheese Bread and Empanadas
From the forklift accident, the recovery, and the epileptic Grandma
I am from the strength of the women in my family
I am from the stacks of paperwork
I am from a course of self-discovery and awareness
I am from the first generations journey to succes

She was not the first
nor the last
daughter of ten too many men
Trapping her worth
in passing glances
that last too long
but not long enough
to be worth it