carmen

November 9, 2012

…y de la nada, te apareces.

like houdini, poof!

you just show up.
via email.

“hey, how you doing? how’s life? love?”

tal vez no entiendes. que esta no es la relación
que quiero contigo. pues para tener una amistad
se necesitan dos.

one should be available to the other.
at any time. no en secreto como si fuera
lo nuestro un pecado que lleve pena de muerte.

that’s what relationships are, no?
un toma y coge. a give and take.
an, i got yo’ back. estoy aquí pa’ cuando sea.

asi que, cuando quieras una amistad sincera,
show it. y no en un marrrrdito email
que luego borras para que no sepan que aun
te comunicas conmigo.

y no, esto no es poesía.
it’s a direct message to you.
yo estoy vieja ya,
to be playing hide-and-seek.

you dishonor the memory
of the relationship
y me insultas.

a tu “intento” le falta
corazón y coráje.

hands

November 9, 2011

i look at my hands
and i see yours.

new lines on them every day
reminding me that time is passing
and our bodies begin to show
the contour lines of life.

i see your face every morning,
as the mirror’s reflection stares:

i am your daughter.

i have your eyes, your smile,
your eyebrows, your nose,
even your long toes.

then i look within…
i am so much of you.
an extension, almost continuation
of all that you are.

there was a time when i disliked
the image… there was a time
i wanted to deny the reflection.

the wonder years can lack so much wonder.

but today…

i am proud to be the daughter
of the strongest woman in the world.
proud to be an extension of a Love
that is infinite. proud to be an offspring
of a spirit that does not give up and a soul
that has never given in.

you have been through so much
and remain faithful.
you have lost everything
and remain thankful.

your words of advice
are unlike any other.

i looked at my hands
this morning… they look exactly like yours for a reason:
to remind me of my own strength.

homecoming

April 9, 2011

at the dock
we waited
anxious
excited
happy
relieved.

one long horn sounds…

tears filled our eyes.

it’s the sound that lets us know
you,
are
home

and you are.

you are their home.
your presence
is home.

i realized it when she ran to you
hugged you. holding on to you.
not wanting to let go. she cried.
she couldn’t help it. in your homecoming
she was also home.

you looked at them
noticed how much they’ve grown:
how she’s inched closer to the skies,
how his facial hair is softly showing,
how the little one has so much to say.

and then… with the tenderness of a gentleman
you kissed your wife.  she, all the while waiting patiently.

that’s how she’s been since you’ve been gone
waiting… patiently.
holding the family together. missing every minute of you.

her strength deserves a uniform flanked with ranks
that admirals have yet to receive.
i watched her during your time away.
she fought wars here. launched her own missiles at days
that without you, seemed eternal.
she earns a medal of honor
for strength and courage
under fire without a crew.

your homecoming…is theirs also.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©

writer’s note: welcome home walker-herrera family. thank you for your service and sacrifice.

a letter to love

November 12, 2010

love,

when you come home
this is what a need from you…

i need you to be patient.
with you. with me. with us.
you should come dressed in comfort.
nothing flashy
–simplicity catches my eye with ease.

come with a gentle spirit.
speak softly. hold me gently.
you will have my attention
if you can get at my intellect
and my spirit.

trust.
don’t hold me accountable
for what others have done to you.
i still believe in you
amidst the heartaches
loving has caused.

grow.
feed the spirit of us.
nurture the soul of what we have
with letters, flowers, music…
details add fuel to the fire.
love must burn.

rest.
on a lazy sunday
wrapped in me.
recharge our souls
with peace.

fight.
want to want to it.
need to have it.
fight to make sure we continue
to love “for better or for worse.”

and finally, please,
come home for good.

stay.

(i left the light on for you).

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2010