sin titulo

August 30, 2010

los dias
se hicieron semanas.
las semanas
ya son meses.

la distancia

y yo aqui.

no se de ti.
excepto que me pides
que sea fuerte.


eso lo he sido
toda la vida.

no es de ser fuerte ahora…
es de expresar sentimiento.
dejarle saber al corazon,
que el amor puede llorar.

que el dolor
entre dos
es mas facil.

en cambio,
tu pared.
para protegerte

y me dejas,
al otro lado,
sin ni si quiera
una ventana
donde pueda
mandarte flores.

como lo haces?
como te desconectas?

hablando de logica,
y razon.

vivimos eso cada dia:
la logica es que estamos lejos.
la realidad es que no sabemos
cuando nos volveremos a ver.
la razon nos traiciona.

pero… dime
de tu corazon, Amor.

donde esta lo nuestro…
ahi donde hice el nido
de mis suen~os.

tu silencio
me asusta
a gritos.

el amor
que no se alimenta
de hambre y sed,
…se muere.

de mi parte,
le dare de comer
y beber por las dos.

y si tu construyes paredes,
yo sembrare jardines.
hare una escalera de margaritas
para llegar a ti,
donde esta mi sonrisa mas grande.

porque este Amor
es tan bello como
aquel mes de marzo
donde la primavera
florecio en nuestras vidas.

~Sarahi Yajaira, 2010

camp angels

August 22, 2010

15 years
have passed
since the likes of you
first walked this trail
leading straight to our hearts.

your hands
painting smiles on our faces.
your faces
bringing light to our worlds.

you angels you!

you amazing beautiful angels.
tell me please
where do you hide your wings?

in your presence… we grow stronger.

we take with us your laughter.
that perfect song, that’s never wrong.

we learn from your smiles…
to wear them, even on the rough days.

we want you to
run ’round the bases,
but slide safe into home.
please be safe!

don’t forget to look up at the night sky.
those stars above are us watching over all of you.

dance. eat well. do your best in school.
laugh. A LOT.  respect yourself. love yourself.
no one can move you from the center of you.

and always remember… to keep patience,
strength, courage, faith… and smile!

keep that beautiful smile.

~Sarahi Yajaira, 2010

dedicated to all the campers who have been a part of Camp MeechiMuk. i wish you light.


August 7, 2010

when she grows up
i want her to remember
our womyn.

i want her to know
that the womyn in our family
have been fighters and survivors
and go-getters and do-ers…

…that we laugh when crying sits on our throats.

i look at her
in wonder.
amazed at how nature knew
the perfect brush stroke
to use for her smile…
the colors of her eyes
make her hair standout.

her little hands
-carved out perfectly-
hold my heart so gently.

she kisses my nose,
i breathe in her love.

her energy is sweet and powerful.
when she gets upset you can witness
our mothers’ temperaments in her cries.
she frowns at the center of her forehead
-just like abuela.

and laughs with the sweetness of a thousand pilones.

she prefers that you not comb her hair…
still, she is beautiful.

i can tell she’s gonna be strong…
she’s so determined to do her own thing.
keeps herself busy and entertained
and smiling she wraps you around her little fingers.

she talks…
a lot.
most of the time
to herself.
and don’t you dare interrupt her
because the conversation
is deep and intense.
she’s been practicing words;
nouns and adjectives want to play with her.

she will grow…

and i want her to know
that life will not be pretty.
that days might come
when she will want to crawl
back into her mother’s womb.

and at those times
she must remember the womyn.
remember that she comes from a line
of queens that played kings.

that her little hands
will stretch and gain the strength
they need to hold life.

that her voice
will learn
how to use the words
that played with her
to build conversations
that will change hearts.

i want her to remain humble.
to keep peace in her heart.
to help others.
to do good and be good.

i want her to remember
that our womyn
were patient in the wait.
that they always believed
better days would come
because if they didn’t,
our womyn created them
with their hands.

i want her to be strength
wrapped in gentleness.

i want her to remember
to feed the spirit
of the little girl she is now.
because she will remain inside
her even when she becomes a womyn.
but most of all
i want her to remember
our womyn.
because in memory
we keep their spirit alive.
and in their spirit
we will always
find strength.

~Sarahi Yajaira, 2010

Writer’s Note: Pilones is a type of lollipop found in Puerto Rico and Dominican Republic.  Abuela means… well, you should go look it up.  Do some homework. ;o)

old poetry

August 6, 2010

college hall
seems so long ago.

still, i remember
that poem.

midnight cravings
had us savoring poetry.
pulling all-nighters…
we slept
between the pages
of our journals.

we were young poets
in love,
with words.
writing poems
in poetry books.
we circled the words we loved.

invented an alphabet
of our own
so that our words
could be ours and ours alone.

we slipped poetry
into each others pockets
just to hold words in our hands.

what sweet poetry
we wrote.
how those words
bled out of our hearts
and into the ballpoints of our pens.

english class
was our favorite.
we fell in love
with e.e.cummings’
lowercase letters;
vowed to never
capitalize our words
because we wanted
them to speak softly.

the year ended,
so did the poems.
our words

years have passed.
i still keep words
in my pockets.

and when we reconnect
life comes back to those words.
words come back to us
and we reinvent the alphabet.

poetic muse,
we are destined to write
and rewrite
the pages of new and old journals.

time and distance
cannot dry the ink of our pens.
our poetic energy
is fire… and we must burn.

~Sarahi Yajaira, 2010

my amen

August 4, 2010

mami, i have something i need to tell you.
you see, when i was a little girl
i loved my dolls. i loved my dolls so much,
i wanted them to be real. 

i wanted to tell you
that when you were putting on your make-up
and trying on a pretty dress…
i loved to watch (i thought you were so beautiful).

i needed to tell you
that when i played with my best friend,
i loved to play house and be the boy.
because i always thought only the boy
could like the girl, the way i did.

i was ashamed, but smiled
when the opportunity came to be in a situation
that allowed me to be incognito in my skin.

i needed to fit in a mold that broke each time i was being forced into it.
my nature betrayed me… gave you glimpses of who i was.
and we fought. and we argued. and we fought.

cause i was never a pretty girl, mom.
i hated the color pink, tea parties and stockings.
cause i was never comfortable in a dress
and felt as though training bras were only good for sling shots.
cause i only liked the boys if we were playing sports…

at six-years-old i knew that” little girls are made from sugar, and spice and everything nice…” cause i kissed one.

i was ashamed, but smiled
when the opportunity came to be in a situation
that allowed me to be incognito in my skin.

and as i grew… so did the desire.
so did your disappointment. so did your shame.

i became more confident. you became angrier.
i accepted my truth. you denied my freedom.
i ran away from you. you turned away from me.

and told me that your god would unleash his wrath.

but mami, i need to tell you more…
you need to know that when i am in her arms, i feel as though i am in heaven.
that her spirit is holy.
that her love is what i imagine god’s kisses to feel like.
that when she holds me, it’s as if angels are singing the sweetest song.

that i have never felt closer to god’s love, than when i am with her. that she is my amen.

…and mami, i still think you are beautiful and god still loves me.

Sarahi Yajaira, 2010

Writer’s Note: For my friend, MD… we are beautifully and wonderfully created.”