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.

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the last love poem

February 8, 2012

“Your task is not to seek for love,
but merely to seek and find all the barriers
within yourself that you have
built against it.”
~Rumi.

the last love poem
will not be written
in my lifetime.

as long as i am a poet,
butterflies will flutter
in bellies distended
with excitement.

palms will sweat.
heart rates will rise.

Love notes
will be stitched in cursive
into pocket seams.

spontaneous Love songs
will play and dancing will happen
in parking lots, busy streets,
quiet corners…

rain will pour
and Love will be soaked.

fear threatens Love.
has people running away from it
like a natural disaster.

exhaustion…

Love continues breathing.
being.

and while you fall down
…Love falls up.

 

Writer’s Note: “Fluttering butterflies was an inspiration from a conversation with Idalia Poetry.”

the cure

January 23, 2012

tell her i said to get
a heart transplant.

to ask for the heart
that was in the coldest body
so that her feelings will always be…
numb.

she wears her heart on her sleeve.
gives it freely because she believes in Love
more than she believes in god.
like if there was a church of Love,
she’d be there every Sunday offering
her whole heart as tithe.

she wants her life to be about Love
and always seems connect with people
who fear it like a pandemic.

so she keeps getting Love sick.
wondering if there is a vaccine
or some sort of cure for the Love stricken.

(i just keep hoping she gets sick of Love).

so i tell her, to get rid of her heart.
to exchange it for a drum if what she needs is just a beat.
that way she can easily replace it when the skin has broken.

the movies have lied.
the books have deceived.

there is no happy ending.

only an ending of contentment
if you can find peace
with the hearts you were dealt
in a game of spades.

this much i know,
there isn’t a cure… there isn’t even treatment.

sugar

December 4, 2011

i bet you can
taste her on your lips
three lifetimes later.

the last time
she made love to you
was so sweet,
you’ve been packaging
it in candy wrappers
and selling them
for a nickel.

this is not refined sweetness.

she stirred your soul
with sugar cane sticks.
while you bit her rawness…
she caramelized your fingers.

yes.
it is possible to taste her
lifetimes later…
she has crystalized
your heart.

expired

December 1, 2011

in the time and space
that exist in the geography
of distance

lies
a sometimes
uncanny moment
that shows the illusion
to be real

there are days
i feel you so close
i swear you never left

right

here you are
sitting in the void
i think is empty.

one is only as far away
as the heart that misses them.

so really, you’re not gone

if every beat
pounds your name
on my chest
escapes from my lips
with every word i speak
you are heavy on my tongue.

a gypsy, you come and go
traveling through my veins
with an expired passport.

my circulatory system
carries your dna

i begin to bleed you out…

so that i may let Her in.

substance

November 24, 2011

i need substance.

adventures are for youth,
and i seek a journey.

savor
all that i am.
the sweet and the sour.

taste the corners of my worries.
eat the edges of my sorrows.
digest my spirit, while i season my soul.

touch my intellect. find ways to move my heart
from the center of my chest to the palm of my hands
so that i may give it to you without fear.

smell the scent of my passions.
learn where it is exactly that,
with a single gaze,
you can arch my back
and curve into me.

study my moods.
turn the pages
of my poetic truth
into sonnets.
make music on the keys
of my ribs. play drums
on my breasts.
i can be a sweet song
on your lips.

…if what you want is a journey.

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.

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

trickery

September 15, 2011

mira…

if you go to stuckonstupiddotcom
you’ll find a picture of me.
and if you look closely into my eyes
you’ll see her silhouette
shufflin’ in my pupils.

she drives me crazy.

that kinda’ crazy that has me wondering
if i might be having some stalker-like behaviors.

she got me
counting hours ‘til i see her again.
i check and recheck my phone
to see if i might’ve missed her text
between now…
and the time i put it back in my pocket.

when she touches me,
i can feel it in the toes
of my next life.

when she speaks to me,
i get hooked
on the phonics of her lips.
i’ve been diagnosed
with attention deficit disorder
but she’s got
my complete attention.

she’s got this smile…

and when she laughs,
her entire face lights up.
and i’m looking at her light
walking towards it without fear
’cause if it’s death
…bring it.

she makes me laugh.
that ‘hood laugh.
(you know that laugh)

the one that got you standing-up-
running-slowly-clapping your hands-
shit-is-so-funny-your-stomach-hurts-
kinda’ laugh.

mira…

she drives me crazy.

the kinda’ crazy that got me wondering
if i should be in a straight-jacket
‘cause i wanna’ run into the walls
of her body and just crash into her.

she. is. so. good.
she’s got me thinking i’m free falling
and when i look around
i realize, i’ve been lying on her floor
for a minute.

…that’s some trickery.

~Sarahí Yajaira, 2011 ©