gestation of a book

January 26, 2012

for three years.
three long years…

i’ve been experiencing
morning sickness.
throwing up the words
of my childhood,
into this book.

my swollen hands
can’t hold a pen long enough
to wait for this embryo
of letters to take the form of words.

this lyrical fetus
grows…
but the chapters
drown in water retention.

so i am giving birth to pre-mature poetry…
before the umbilical cord strangles this piece of me.
hoping in an incubator,
truth will develop in the lungs of this poetic child.

i can’t deny

August 19, 2009

i can’t deny
i am my
mother’s only daughter.

i can’t deny
the reflection in
the mirror stares
back at me…

a spitting image
a splitting image
a constant reminder
not just physical,
but spiritual, emotional,
and without shame
psychological: good, bad.

i can’t deny
i carry mami
in my words
in my veins
in my heart.

she is heavy
the ghost of
her past actions,
inactions, distractions –hell,
even her contractions
mold, scold, hold
all that is
me, myself, i.

her love lifts
bearing her gifts
forgiveness, compassion, kindness.
i unwrap each
one with care
to remind me
and remind me
that she is
always with me.

i can’t deny
that she is,
all her own.
and i am,
on my own.

but always, always
we will be
reflected and connected.
the umbilical chord
will filter that
which keeps us
from fully evolving.
and the beauty
of our individuality
and our duality
cannot be denied.

~Sarahi Yajaira, 2009