Sometimes,
In the darkest hour
All we need to do
is to close our eyes
and let the heart
walk us straight
and we will find the light
at the end of the tunnel...

Voices of people giving unsolicited advices on how to live my life echo loudly as I make my way to the end of the tunnel; and yet, no light has been found, rather, the voices become deafening as I continue my journey.

I look around in the pitch black tunnel, the earsplitting noises continue, making me feel apprehensive. The thought of the unknown scares me and I care too much so I listen to these blaring voices, booming with every stride I make.

I stop walking, as if these thundering voices weren’t enough to make me anxious, I feel many pairs of eyes glaring at me in this blinding darkness, secretly amused by my feeble state.

Am I still far?
Will I reach it?
Will I make it out alive?
Will I bump into someone — anyone — who has a map and a flashlight to share?

I quiver as I cross my arms and continue walking, hoping that I would soon see the light at the end of what seems to be a never ending tunnel.

You step out into the world and its tendrils seek to entwine.
It takes away my hopes and all the dreams I once held as mine.

You are faced with expectations and choices so not of your own.
You come to think it not so bad when life is both empty and alone.

It becomes just easier to forget about hope and any form of dream.
Responsible to self and away from expectations endless scream.

You close the world outside behind your safeties solid door.
And give up on love and dream like clothes discarded on the floor.

You accept a life of little value and so too the feel it will never end.
All for reassurance outside consequence wont reach in to offend.

I write of being sad and lonely in many of the poems that I write.
But I am conscious, it is I who cast love and hope out into the night.

As the snow falls,
all life comes to a standstill.
As we find ourselves
deep inside the comforts of our quilts,
curling up inside, feeling lonely,
and looking for a feeling of warmth inside us.
Searching for memories,
Inside these malfunctioning brains.
Memories that make us smile,
or maybe make us cry.
Our minds desperately searching,
for that feeling of being human,
being broken.
Just to feel some warmth,
only to feel cold.
Doubting all your actions,
What did I do wrong,
what mistake did I make.
It’s me.
I’m broken.
No one can do it.
Maybe we should stop hoping,
give up on everything,
Maybe it’s for the best.
Or maybe not,
Should we dare dream,
Will I be happy?
Should I do as they say,
Keep moving forward,
Into nothingness,
Hoping that things will be different,
This time?
Just as I thought,
The last time.
Looking for the end of the tunnel,
One after another,
filled with sunshine,
as everyone says.
Just to exit it,
bask in the sunlight,
as we get pushed,
into another.

Sometimes all it takes
Is to realize that you’re awake.
The change that you dream of,
Is in your hands and not miles away.

The grass may seem greener from where you stand,
But to the fellow across the pond,
You have it all right in your hands,
And you’re a fool in paradise,
Wishing for something you already have.

When the light seems far away
Don’t turn around, keep walking straight
You’ll notice that no matter how far you get,
Your first step is what takes you miles away,
To the place where it all will change,
And it will feel like yesterday,
That you were running and now you’re making waves.

There is always another side,
The light at the end of the tunnel,
You just have to open your eyes,
To see that you’ve already reached it.

1.
It felt like crossing      
all things cross, right?

2.
It has been many years since we have walked through that tunnel
and into this land
where the hands of spirits became the wings of ancestors over us
and the quiet inner gust became an orator of truth  

Truthteller could you tell me again my name
They have given me so many on the northern journey,
disguised me to be one of the multiple
flickering pixels on a television screen

eyes darker than their own
but who has darker eyes

3.
She is the barefoot daughter of the Pachamama
womxn of many tongues
womxn whose tongue was not cut off
so you hear her sing when the sun comes up
and sway with the blades of grass
onward in the direction of the voices and the wind
and all the things that cry and laugh out loud  

4.
They made you cross, too
and at the same time
But they made you forget
about the birds,
the wind,
your name- our name
and the alphabet
5.
silence is the alphabet used to speak truth  

6.
They made you forget your name.
Ask them your name as you look up at the sky
cloudy or clear
as  children lay silently next to demarcation lines
housed in steel bars
gloomy and lost
ask and listen
to be humbled by your name  

7.
The spirits call again
can you hear them now?

back through the tunnel of innocence,
they whisper your name.