homage

April 27, 2011

…because
prose and circumstance
have brought us here,
poets.

i honor
the ink
that runs
out of your soul
and writes on
journals that
bleed anger
happiness
heartbreak
injustice
Love.

i honor
the ink
that spills
outcha’ mouf’
when you speak
the words
that break
the white noise
that numbs us.

poet,
ink is fuel
and your voice
is fire.

burn.

consume
hatred, ignorance, fear.
light
the way
for Love and justice.

spit ink
spit words
spit fire

and burn
because prose and circumstance
is the sound of the
“spirit-stirring drum”
that is the beat
of spoken word.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©

Thank you Cristina Izaguirre, Monique Jarvis, Lynette Johnson, Frederick Douglass Knowles II, Alain Lopez, Damion Sincere, Staceyann Chin and the many spoken word artists and poets who, with courage, speak the beat. I am humbled.

dimas

April 24, 2011

jesus.

today you rise
from the dead.

your followers
celebrate your
sacrifice.
for sinners. for all.
you gave your life,
they say.

tomorrow,
Pontius Pilates’
offsprings
will wash
their hands
and continue to
crucify us.

as we walk
through our own
via dolorosa
with crosses
of guilt
on backs that bleed
love.

lashes of hatred.

thorned crown of fear.

they call us the apocalypse.

they speak for you.
ripping scripture
into shreds of
ignorance.

use your name
to condemn.

forgetting
with ease
that you
are
simply
and
powerfully
Love incarnate.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©

in difference

April 23, 2011

toxic.

inhumanity
is consuming
the soul.

we stand around
arms crossed.
laughing.
watching.
as bruises
swelled
on ribs
and face.

painful
screams.

hate
is a four-letter-word
with a five-letter-sentence:

death.

we kill humanity
every time
we cross our arms,
every time
we look away,
e-v-e-r-y-t-i-m-e
we remain silent.

indifference.
apathy.
insensibility.
feeders for hatred.

you thought
this was funny Bro’?
i wonder if you’d be laughing
some 60 years ago
when your great-grandpa’
was beaten and hung
just for… being.

and you Hermana?
you couldn’t just leave
your sister (yes, your sister)
laying on the ground
beaten.
you had to come back
and batter
her spirit as well.

how deep is our hatred
of self…
how unforgiving we are
of that which we do not understand.

we have failed our selves and each other.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©

For Chrissy Lee Polis, sending you physical and spiritual healing energy.  My deepest regrets for our continued inhumanity.

otita

April 22, 2011

antes de
nacer,
ahí estabas tú.
ansiosa…
esperando
mi llegada.

dicen que cuando
el anuncio llego a tu casa
celebraste con emoción.
que mi nacimiento
te lleno de alegría.

hiciste espacio
en tu cuarto
para compartirlo.

pero para ti
aquel espacio
no era suficiente
y expandiste
las paredes
de tu corazon.
 
jugabas conmigo.
me enseñaste
a multiplicar el amor
y dividir las preocupaciones.

el abecedario
de tus consejos
me enseñaron
que la ortografía
de la sabiduría
esta en saber
donde descansar una coma
y poner un punto.

crecí.

tu siempre
presente.
en una llamada.
en una carta.
en una visita de sorpresa.

con tus alas
me arropabas
aun en la distancia.

constante.

tu.
apoyo.
amor.
guía.

en tí…
hogar dulce hogar.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

composing

April 22, 2011

i can write the song
that will lullaby you
to sleep every night
beside me.

if you let me…
i will play the strings of your soul gently.
compose a love song on your skin that will dance outta’ your lips.

i can sing you a song that will be the melody of your heart,
the dance in your feet,
the rythmn in your walk.

if you let me…
your heart will always have a song.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

jardinera

April 20, 2011

pala.
rastrillo.
cesta.
regadera.
carretilla.

en este jardin
donde han arrancado
de raiz
la flor del amor,
mi tierra fertil
aun guarda su semilla.

tu.
mi jardinera
paciente.

con la luz de tu ojos
y el agua de tu boca,
vas regando la tierra
con la ternura de tus manos.
convencida
de que donde el amor
una vez florecio
volvera…

asi es el amor
verdadero:
paciente. fuerte. constante.
no se muere.
en la tormenta,
permanece.
renace.

tu.
holticulturista.
siembras hierbas
medicinales.
frutos. flores olorosas.

el arte
de tu vision
un paisajismo
envidioso
de cualquier
jardin botanico.

el aire primaveral
trae esperanza.
y el sol de tu mirada
anuncia el brote
de una unica flor.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

scratchin’ dreams

April 14, 2011

he pulls out a dime
from his pockets
to scratch a lottery ticket

tryina’ ease
that poverty stricken
mentality rash

’cause that welfare
calamine lotion
got him coming back
for the medicine

not realizing
he is his own cure
to the diseases that cripple
him to think
he needs to wait
for someone to give him
what is already his.

but all you need
is a dollar and a dream
that when that scratch ticket
reveals a winner
he will leave his mansion
in the projects
for a house in the ‘burbs.

so he keeps scratchin’

’cause we can always dream

there’s no cost to dreaming…
‘cept maybe waking up
to reality.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©

space

April 14, 2011

i dream
on park benches.

of that space
where…

you get lost in my arms.
same space
where i find my self in yours.

space

where
i trace your body.
learning the rise and
f
a
l
l

of your bre-a-thi-ng.
same space
where i catch mine.

that space
where our bodies merge
same space
where we
walk towards us.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©

 

des.ar.me

April 10, 2011

no me desarmes.

mi defensa
es lo unico que tengo.

tu
con ternura.
besos
de miel
se ofrecen a endulzar
mi amargura.

me das
tanta belleza
en tan poco tiempo.

pero me hecho a correr
a mil millas lejos de ti
porque en ti veo
el recuerdo del amor.

no me desarmes
con poesias
que me cantan
versos de un “te quiero.”

tu toque
condensa mis
emociones…

como para llamarme
a rendirme en el espacio
entre tu cuello y tu ombro.

no me desarmes.

mi defensa es lo unico que tengo.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

falta

April 9, 2011

me han visto?

llevo tiempo
que no me veo.
ando sin andar.
ojos abiertos
pero aun no veo.

sola.

ni yo misma estoy conmigo.

la rutina
me despierta.
hago todo
y no hago nada.

aqui aun
el cuerpo
pero falta
corazon.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011