my secrets in your fibers.
Each strand a story,
that I have burdened you with.
Hidden from sight under your layers,
as hard to find as an ancient grotto.
You protect me,
as the canopy shelters the rainforest,
sheltering me from fear.
Your scent pungent,
Age fragrant
as a musty book in an attic,


Marissa Navedo

-  The nickname Oscito means little bear in Spanish

I sat in the third row.
Staring at the red velveteen,
the gleaming black exterior-
of the open casket.
My abuela’s black veil masked her face,
however could not hide her gentle trembling.
Discarded Kleenex crumbled,
on the harsh wooden floors.
That resonated the sound of her heels
as she pace d the floor.
While she recited Hail Mary’s,
and prayed to God.
Abuela no lloran,
She held my hand.
I saw what my mother tried to prevent.
Abulo with bruises on his skin,
similar to the coffee stain on my father’s ivory shirt.
His amputated leg, and still expression

I walked away, I learned my lesson.

*Abula no lloran means Grandma don’t cry in Spanish

-Marissa Navedo

Tightrope
       W a l k  e  r   s
              ABOVE
dangle            the audience’s heads
                                                      bats
Jugg ler’s  throw              *****             chairs.
ringmaster   conquers                       all
caged   lionsbears -  beasts

popcorn spills      on the
                                           ground
as   children gaspinawe
horses lavishly decorated
clowns            abhorred
laughter radiates in the arena
trapeze act
                      grand Finale
discarded peanuts
                                    linger
behind
-marissa navedo

At a young age,
you laboriously worked on complex puzzles;
completing them, with an unnatural ease.
Distinguishing  yourself from others.

Your passion direct.
Fixating on numbers,
calculating your future.
You try to find a formula for happiness,
although it is incalculable.
As an irrational number, unable to terminate.

You extract formulas,
despite the odds.
Conveying your theories,
constructing logarithms.
intent to prove it is not abstract,
to be a female actuary.

Seventy years prior,
Catherine Prime opened the field.
Disproving the infeasible claims,
that women could not excel to this level.
Faced with reasons not to give her rank,
amongst the stunned men.
Who claimed she was good,
for a woman.
-Marissa Navedo

Listen to the constant chirping of the crickets.
Watch the blades of grass sway in the wind,
as the smell of the morning dew surrounds me.
My eyes follow the gentle ***** of the hill,
noticing the wildflowers scattered like coins in a well.
A couple is walking on the dirt path below,
oblivious to my gaze.
The tree’s rusted orange, saffron yellow leaves,
begin to drift down the path.
A lone discarded paper, an artificial tumbleweed.
The wind rattles the pages of my journal,
as if it is trying to keep nature a secret.

-Marissa Navedo

“En dehors”
The mirror emulates their grace,
as amber catches an insect
preserving it in the mind.
I focus on the soft pink
that paints across the floor.

“Passé”
Their feet move automatically,
as gears in a grandfather clock.
Drifting with the ease,
of a fallen leaf.
Gliding through the air.
My steps are crude to the eye,
as oil in the ocean

“Efface”
With each incorrect step.
I burrow even further,
trying to escape ridicule.
I attempt to blend in,
A crypsis of the mind.

Marissa Navedo

- En Dehors: expresses that the leg moves in a circular direction, clockwise
- Passé: working leg passes the supporting leg sliding close to the knee
- Efface: Dancer stands at an oblique angle to the audience so part of the body is hidden from view. Legs are open and uncrossed
- Crypsis: The ability of an organism to avoid observation or detection by other organisms.

We walked down the path,
Overgrown weeds jut out from every direction.
The harsh textures rub against my bare legs,
as if being kissed by an unshaven man.
The narrow sodden trail unwinds,
revealing translucent waters with distinguished elegance.
It feels as if the eye can transcend forever.
The water is tainted,
it is the furthest thing from purity.
It’s beauty once extolled is as meaning less as a grungy penny,
for it is an artificial beauty.
-Marissa Navedo