this new year, be unshakeable

December 29, 2010

family and friends,

for most of us, the end of the year is always a time of reflection. we find ourselves summarizing the culminating year.
we go through a list of the good, the bad, and that which we wish to never remember.
we’ve experienced loss. we cried deaths and celebrated births.
we were witnesses to disasters, to impossible feats, and heartbreaking defeats.

when we are on the eve of something new, “standing at the edge of all we know” or about to take that next step, a myriad of emotions will surface.
welcome these with open arms. embrace the collective energy of happiness, anger, sadness, and laughter…  then let it go.

let it go, to set your Self free.

last year, i wrote a piece  titled 11:59.
it read “be thankful for those moments that brought you pain/don’t rethink the darkness/except to give thanks for the strength it brought you.”
let those words resound throughout this new year.

we gain strength in the hardships. every challenge met and unmet is a spiritual evolution.

on the eve of this 2011. make no promises. no resolutions.

keep it simple… just live.

live out each day to the fullest.
come what may, live happily.
remain centered.

be unshakeable.

let the core of you be the source you turn to when the hardships come.
do not depend on anyone but yourself.
realize that everything you need, everything you want… you already have.

it is inside of you.

return to you. and in that place you will find everything you will need to take on this new year.

i wish you and yours happiness, peace, strength and courage.

strength and courage.

strength and courage.


Sarahí Yajaira


December 27, 2010

our mothers’ dreams
rest on the pillows
of our beds.

wrapped in the blanket of
their guilt, their failed attempts,
their unfulfilled wishes.

…their “i-should-haves”
hold us hostage.


we’d like to be
the perfect daughters.
the ones who gives mami
everything she never had.
because that’s what she gave us.
and she had nothing
but those dreams
that she gave up
when she pushed us out
of her womb.

her dreams discarded
with the placenta.

my birth
became the reminder
of her deferred dreams.

those dreams. her dreams.

this unrealistic reality
has become my nightmare.

i cannot give
her, her dreams.
they do not live in me,
they live on me.

i have my dreams.
the ones i don’t want
to pass on to my daughter.
they are mine and mine alone
to dream up and live out.

but her guilt’s got me thinking
my wings are clipped.
her frustration’s got me questioning,
“why is my wing span so wide
if i can’t fly?

i cannot live out her dreams.
her dreams know i am not the one.
mine will wonder where i’ve been…

and my daughter’s dreams will ask,
“what dreams did you live out, mami?”

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2010 ©


December 23, 2010

you woke up in my smile.
rolled over on my lips,
curled into my tongue
and nestled in my heart.

eyes wide open,
you sit at the edge
of my bed of hopes.


~Sarahí Yajaira, 2010 ©

a love story

December 20, 2010

i want our love to be a never-ending story.
or at least an epic trilogy that turns classic.
i want the strength of our love to be the hardcover
that keeps the pages of our lives together.

if our love was a paragraph,
i’d want it to be a series of run-on sentences
where periods would be placed only in parts
where we’d need to stop and catch our breath.


i’d want to hold on to the commas
at the end of your lips,
to breathe you in between kisses.
and i’d want you to hold me
between the parentheses of your arms.

i want the cover graphic
to be a picture of our hands,
so that we may always hold
the story of our love.

i want trust to be what binds.
communication copyrighted.
patience to be numbered
in the corners of our pages.
i want the ISBN of our book to be 13,
’cause luck has turned for us.

i want the dedication to read:
“to us. for making it work.”
and we can preface
it with the story of how our souls met
long before our bodies.

i want our love to be divided into chapters.
let each chapter title carry the name
of each of our years together.

i want the love we make to be poems.

i want our book to be a
even-in-the-tough-parts-kinda-book because

i want our love to be a best seller.
a non-fiction pulitzer prize winner
that reads like a fairytale.

and when the pages of our book
get closer to the back cover,
i want the last page to read… “the beginning.”

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2010 ©

i won’t tell

December 10, 2010

it’s ok if you don’t ask… ‘cause i won’t tell.
you’ll figure it out when you find my body
in the estuary of the east river.
(my spirit died long before
i leapt off that bridge).

see, you’ve been legislating hatred
for centuries.

the women. the blacks.
the poor. the latino. the disadvantaged.
the queers.

you’ve been proclaiming the land of the free.
a democracy. with liberty and justice for all.

while you imprison
your people
under the stars
and behind the bars
of your flag.

i could never break
your glass ceiling
cause my hands
are busy trying
to hold myself

“from California to the New York Islands
this land was made for…” no one
who is different from you.

“tyranny of the majority,” said your James Madison.
–you were warned years ago.
you fight against extremism when it’s used against you,
yet you’ve wagered an extreme war against those who are different.

the message you send is hypocrisy.

but please don’t ask… ‘cause i won’t tell.
let the bully in class, beat it out of me.
let my pastor in church, pray it away.
let my mother at home, cuss’ it out.

‘cause at the end of this day
i will just be another headline that reads,
“queer youth commits suicide.”

and they will wear their purple shirts.
and candles will be lit to remember me…

but i will soon be forgotten.
because the real problem
isn’t just the bully, my pastor and my mother…

the real problem is when you continue to create laws
that deny me my very basic right to be protected.

so please don’t ask… trust me, i won’t tell.
silence has always equaled death.
and in death i am free from your hatred.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2010 ©

writer’s note: dedicated to all young queer youth. you are so much light to the infinite power. remain strong. there are many of us who are here for you… just reach out.

infinite moon

December 3, 2010

a thousand particles collided.
scattering throughout the infinite
countless fragments of what was my heart…

through the telescope
of your eyes you see
a conglomeration of stars,
some sort of lost milky way.

your light.

a gravitational force
pulling me slowly
out of this black hole
…in to your galaxy.

meteor showers
wash the dark matter of pain
around the nebulae
of my heart.

there was a time
when i was so much more
than these scattered lights.

i am not a shooting star.
a light who just reflects
a thousand traveled lifetimes.
do not make wishes on them
for their light no longer exist.

i am not another moon
in jupiter’s collection.
surrounded by many
but none
give it light.

the stars
of your night
winked at me.

align themselves.
the constellation
of your celestial hands
formed a big dipper
to hold me in your space.

i would condense
the scattered fragments
of me…
just to be bright enough
to be the only moon
in the infinite universe
of your heart.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2010 ©