Bellows

  For National Poetry Month we’re reposting this amazing poem by Anita Scott. #poetrylife   Be the bellows of my soul. Be the bellows in my soul. Be the push and the blow that reconciles gaining with letting go, releasing while receiving.   Be the reason that hope lives in tears. Be the One who […]

What Does It Cost You?

“¿Mijita, que te cuesta? What does it cost you?” Grandma forces her eyebrows into a plunging V so sharp I think it’s going to rip off the top of her nose.   “My dignity!”   I stand feet raked across her linoleum floor, a bull ready to charge, except I’m wearing the red reboso. I am […]

Listening to my Mother is an Act of Learning to Love Myself

  Listening to My Mother is an Act of Learning to Love Myself   When I learned I was pregnant, I was scared because I was the shape of the moon and I didn’t think that my body carried enough light to make the night sky shine.   Whittling a daugther from your flesh feels […]

Belief

The many tunnels honeycomb me in one by one, I become frozen in deep blue. I become noisy as a bee cloud. I become holy like a rooted tree.   The many tunnels open me into their skin,   to see the golden lamp, a golden calf reborn. To believe in the candle who outweighs, […]

Wij Zijn Hier/We Are Here

We are here and you’d like to forget it, have us more hidden then our black faces and tired, old eyes. Isn’t it enough to leave my own country as a teenager? Isn’t it enough to run on bare feet from my home that is at war with itself? Isn’t it enough to be homeless […]

Psalm to Mom

You’re not my own but you read me to bed, and tickles me to the bone love how my fat cheeks dimple up. And I’m barely two and my curls are brand new. And you don’t know what she’s doing,  trying to make my braids, Put your head down, hold your head down, hold it […]

Faith Is Figuring Life Out

Who’s to say I came out of the womb triumphant and beckoning, suckling sunlight and justice with indignant power, bewildered eyes ablaze to teach and be taught, or renting immaculate spaces with poise and unconscious infatuation. Suppose the wind coughed me out into this new world and then made me stand up and become my […]

Portrait of A Both Girl

I am not black. I am not white. I am somewhere between the ink and the page, the word that is blurred      out. I am not what you assume She speaks Spanish… can’t quite place her…. definitely not from around here I am from around here. I grew up down that stone road […]

Can Opener

When I think about you trying to open me I think of a can of tomato soup It’s the only thing you can afford when you’re so broke You let strangers into your body. I think of my can opener, how I can never find it in the gore of underused utensils. I think of […]