my love

October 21, 2011

gracias por el regalo de esta hija, que sera el maximo exponente de nuestro amor

when i was born, my father brought my mother flowers. the card read, “thank you for the gift of this daughter, who will be the maximum exponent of our love.”

growing up, we knew “got nothing” days. i have known days without a plate of food, but i have never known a day without love. in my lifetime, regardless of the circumstances, i have never missed an “i love you,” a warm embrace or some words of affection from a parent, a cousin, grandma, an aunt or uncle or a friend. i have been fortunate and blessed to always feel love (physically, emotionally and spiritually).

the following words were expressed to me “…sometimes i wonder, who is all that [love and attention] for?”

…and then i started rethinking that some friends and family, have often expressed that “[i] give love too quickly.” that i should be more “selective for my own sake.”

pero mis amores… i have no idea how to do things differently, nor do i want to.

i have no idea how to not love, if that is what i am feeling; regardless of the love (love of family, love of friends, intimate love). even as a child, those who have known me since, will tell you that i have always been the same.

i have a very difficult time being upset with those who hurt me; i forgive almost instantly. i have always been of the belief that i don’t have time for that shit. i don’t have time to hold anger so close that it doesn’t allow me to love and be loved. i don’t have time to be pissed off at the world for what it has brought me, because quite honestly, it drains me exponentially. it keeps me from evolving.


then my brain goes haywire. is there some truth to the idea that perhaps i do “love too quickly?” too intensely? is it possible that repetitive love becomes obsolete? that it almost becomes “habit” if it is something i express with ease? and if i am questioning all this, there has to be a message for me.

could it be that perhaps my parents’ love, in some pre-hogwarts-era-way cursed me?

(forgive me for rambling reader, i am literally writing this out).
Besos, Felo 15-5-78

is it that, like my mother has told me so many times, “the majority of people in this world are not ready for your love, mi hija.” or does she say that to make me feel somewhat “normal” in my expressive ways? or my biggest fear, is it that perhaps, i don’t really know what love is because somehow it has some sort of rules of engagement that i have not followed?

i don’t know how to not express sentiments and feelings. i don’t know how to hold back and be reserved and not tell someone what i am feeling because i feel as though i will literally implode.

and i don’t do it because, i have to —as my uncle says, “i ain’t gotta’ do nuttin’ but be puertorican and die. 


the repetitive act of my sweetness (be it words or a gift), doesn’t diminish the sincerity of the sentiment.  life is too short to limit how often acts of love take place.

i am this way because quite simply… there isn’t enough love in this world. and for some reason, i have some rare “surplus” and am willing to give it with ease and without reservation because fuck, you deserve to be loved! i give love to those i make connections with along the way. and with this love came honesty… if i don’t feel it, i don’t give it.

but i don’t know any other way except love’s way.

call me a poet. an idealist. a hopeless romantic. a sappy, mushy fool. it doesn’t matter.

i will stand beside you as long as you let me. and when you don’t. i will love you from a distance. love is a compromise. come what may, you keep love and it keeps you.

this isn’t poetry.

recuperando amor

October 20, 2011

quiero que ames
sin frenos.

que dejes tus temores.
que dejes tus enojos.
que dejes todo lo que
te impide vivir
una vida de amor.

de nada nos sirve
cargar con penas
tan pesadas
que no nos permiten
tomar otro paso.

ama. con locura. con pasion.
con libertad. con risa. con madures.
con paciencia. con ternura. con cariño.
pero ama.

que si el corazon
te hieren. el mismo Amor
te ayudara a recuperar.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

reflection: the art of me

October 20, 2011

i received two emails from two dear friends exactly one week apart from each other.

the first one wrote,”I’ve been crazy busy but wanted to let you know I read your work and I like how you are developing. You have lovely sentiments and great energy. Please keep that.”

the second one wrote, “why aren’t you publishing your work and giving motivational speeches? you have A LOT of potential.”

i have received five rejection letters from publishers this year. and the only reason i haven’t received more is because i stopped submitting during my illness to focus on healing. i don’t mind the rejection. it puts me that much closer to my goal.

most importantly, the publishing isn’t an indicator of my art’s worth. the worth is in the art of me.

what is the art of me? the ability to write and share, open and honestly, the things most are afraid to speak about: fears, injustices, set backs, missed opportunities, mistakes made once (twice), pain, love, family…

i write because it allows me to heal in places where fresh air doesn’t blow to scab wounds. i write because in writing i let go of the things that hold on to me. i write to share a joy that my heart cannot contain. i write because in writing i defend and protect the innocent. i write because it is my weapon of mass reconstruction. i rebuild the broken pieces of me in every word i write down that speaks to my truth.

so, yes… i will continue to write to improve the skill. but the art of me is perfectly flawed. and yes, i will be published not because it will give worth to my work but because my work has that much worth.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

Writer’s Note: To all the artists out there, continue to paint, sculpt, sing, write, dye, speak words, do your thing. Your ultimate goal will come to life because you give it life.


October 17, 2011

there was a crime
committed against you.
so horrible, its got you thinking
you are guilty.

you’ve locked yourself up
in a prison of silence.

don’t sentence yourself
to life behind fears.

i will stand here
until you realize
you are free.

and then,
…we can walk out together.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

let go

October 14, 2011

my wish for you
is that you let go
of the pen you keep
writing with.

it bleeds hate and anger.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

reflection: healing love

October 14, 2011

a little over year ago i was told one of the most heartbreaking news of my life. it had to do with an intimate relationship. we were engaged to be married. but that would not happen.

the news seemed to freeze my senses. as she spoke, silent tears streamed down my face. the once sweet sound of her voice pierced my ears.  and at that moment, i stopped believing. faith dissipated. my spirit broke into fragments. and i was left to pick up each sharp edge with my bare hands.

the process of healing…

a years worth of days have brought a range of emotions, adventures, missteps, anger, laughter and frustrations. i became jaded. lost myself in the process. forcing circles into squares.

it takes a long time to digest swallowed pain.

i thought it could never make sense again. i felt as though the concept of love had evolved for me. it was no longer what i believed it was. it was morphing into something that i had yet to really experience.

i am a poet. we are hopeless romantics. we believe in Love even when it stops believing in us. we make Love fall in love with us. and when all of this is challenged and you are left naked and vulnerable you feel as though nothing will ever be the same.

and it isn’t.

thank the universe for that.

love matures. you emerge healed with a new sense of purpose for love. it is not love that hurts us, it is people. they do so because they are human. and fear can lead us to do…well… stupid things.

i have healed. and allowed my self to welcome someone new. and while hesitant to step, i don’t fear it. i simply walk slower.

in the moment of direct impact, that feeling of pain lasts for what seems to be eternal, we feel as though the world will end and we will never stop hurting. we shut down. we default to auto-defense. but as we continue to walk through the days…

we heal. we regenerate. we recuperate. we grow stronger.

and we realize… we are capable of loving and being loved again.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

perfecto Amor

October 10, 2011

hoy le escribo al Amor.
todo es diferente. mientras nada cambia.

qué triste, que por falta de cariño,
el Amor ya no tiene ganas.
anda exhausto por maltrato y sufre por temores,
que tienen a seres humanos inventado excusas
para no dejarse Amar.

de mi parte
le escribo estas líneas,
para darle gracias.
aquel que ha sido mi dicha
y desdicha por toda una vida.
y que por masoquista o loca
aun anhelo.

al Amor que ya no es lo que era:
un compromiso con el tiempo.
un compromiso con compromiso.

no me rindo. aunque quisiera
mi naturaleza me lo impide.
las palabras, con el viento se van.
aunque las mías siempre trate
escribirlas con tinta indeleble.

le pido que
me ayude a entenderlo
con razón madura y un corazón
fortalecido. que no espere de él
lo que esperaba a los 16. 23. 30.

que me de sabiduría
para discernir entre el delirio
y la pasión.

que me ayude a estar dispuesta
a cambiar lo que en mí no refleja
Amor sincero.

que me ayuda a caminar
despacio. pendiente de mis alrededores.
pendiente de mis errores para no cometerlos
una y otra vez.

le pido que me de
lo que yo no le he dado,
paciencia. pelea. perdón.

no quiero ser
Amor perfecto,
quiero ser
perfecto Amor.

no quiero ser espejismo,
quiero ser reflexión.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©

may i

October 5, 2011

may i let go
of all that keeps me.

may i learn
to sit still
with all that is

may i find
peace within
faith without.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

reflection: tired

October 5, 2011

“i am tired of fighting,” posted a friend on her page.  and i knew exactly what she was feeling. i mean, we truly are “scratchin’ and surviving” ….each. damn. day.

sometimes we are fighting (exerting valued energy) for things that in this day and age, we should NOT be fighting for. some examples include: housing, healthcare, food… you know, the basic necessities for a human being to survive.

and we fight. and fight. for crumbs. and then we fight each other for the crumbs thrown at us. it is literally exhausting.

we try to organize communities only to be met, not by apathy but by exhaustion. the “fight” has been legislated out of them. they believe in nothing and no one because years of advancement can time travel right back with the cast of a vote or the swinging of a wallet.

hell. fucking. yes. you have a right to be exhausted. tired. fed up. and ’bout ready to catch one. ’cause this shit sucks.

but that’s just it. that’s what the powers that be want… for us to just lie down and call it quits. they would love to see is throw in the towel. raise the red flag.

what i’d like to throw is my exhaustion. and i will not raise a red flag when my hand has taken the form of a fist. they are more afraid than we are because they know the power we have. they know, that if we would come together we would be undefeated. they know our collective numbers would crash the market of their egos.

we, together, are the sum of their greatest fear.

so yes, be tired. be exhausted. and then muster all the energy of a fighter who knows that the battle is hardest right before you emerge victorious.


~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011

catching fears

October 5, 2011

is the sound of fear.

how does one let go
of those experiences
that build walls
to keep us safe?

the hurt
lasts longer
when we allow it to
keep us from embracing
a new blessing.

i am learning to listen
to silence. i am also learning
keep quiet. to let myself be
guided by more than words.

gently and quietly,
She slips her unspoken Love
into my pillow case.

…and every night
a dream catches
fears and i hear
the walls cracking.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011