Colors of Life – Grieving Dreams

Grieving DreamsGrieving Dreams is when we review our lives and realize a dream we have pursued so long doesn’t benefit us anymore.

I recorded an episode of my other podcast, Chica and the Man with my co-host Alex Greenwood. We talked about career changes and how it affected us. (Listen to that episode here).

How we grieve when we have pursued a job, career, or a business and gave our heart and soul to it only to have to let it go. We know it’s the right thing to do, but yet there’s this sadness of letting go. We think what-if I could have done more? Where did I go wrong? Was I just not good enough? In reality, I feel the lessons and importance of it have run its course. When we feel this way, it is a form of grieving. We need to address it. As Eleanor Haley from Grieving the Loss of Hopes and Dreams states: When we care deeply about something, it can be difficult to know when to let go. Sometimes our hopes are all we have to keep us getting out of bed in the morning. People always like to say things like, It’s never too late to follow your dreams and many times this is true. When there’s a chance to see your dreams through or there is still joy in the journey, by all means, keep going.

I grieved letting go of acting. There was no more joy in the journey. I knew I couldn’t make a living at it, yet I pursued it for many years. I was in disbelief because I had invested so many years and my soul in it. How can I love acting and the career doesn’t love me back? Nowadays, if it comes my way, I’ll be happy to do it. It’s the pursuit of it I have released. It was heartbreaking and liberating at the same time.

Grief is a normal response to loss during or after a disaster or other traumatic event. Grief can happen in response to loss of life, as well as to drastic changes to daily routines and ways of life that usually bring us comfort and a feeling of stability. Common grief reactions include:

  • Shock, disbelief, or denial
  • Anxiety
  • Distress
  • Anger
  • Periods of sadness
  • Loss of sleep and loss of appetite

CDC on grief and Loss (see link below)

Regardless of the scenario, the loss of hopes and dreams can be incredibly hard to accept and cope with. Eleanor Haley.

Deep listening is the practice of turning toward your feelings and emotions. 

Most of us have the tendency to run away from anything uncomfortable within us. It’s only natural. But numbing, avoiding, and rejecting our pain only makes what we feel larger and ‘scarier’ than it truly is. When we turn toward our pain with curiosity and gentleness, we often find an immediate sense of relief. Aletheia Luna

What I’ve learned through grief is to accept, be kind, and love myself. Life will have its moments, it’s part of living. Learn to ride the beautiful, never-ending passions and gifts of life.

The poem for this week is Quiet from Inspire Me: Perception

Black and white
Chrome bedroom
Reflects silvery gray moods of
The uncharted mind

Incandescent garden lights
Shine through the blinds
Marking lines on face
Stares at the light

Answers from another realm
Beyond our three dimensions
Silence prey’s existence of
Yearning questions

An essence enters
Smoky figure gazes
Into questioning eyes
Serene presence felt

Changing monochrome
Movie of thoughts and dreams
Reflect on cheeks and lips
Grin extends to essence

Crimson smile, blushing face
Sends joy to ashen figure as
Chromatic shades appear and
Smoky image disperses

Lights fade into darkness
REM creating memories of
Longevity with peaceful
Nightfall sleep

Goodnight

 

Music by: Ocean Bliss by Gotama

https://gotama-music.bandcamp.co

https://lonerwolf.com/deep-listening/

https://whatsyourgrief.com/loss-of-hopes-and-dreams/  (Eleanor Haley)

https://www.cdc.gov/mentalhealth/stress-coping/grief-loss/index.html

https://www.helpguide.org/articles/grief/coping-with-grief-and-loss.htm

 

Colors of Life – Yearend 2021

New Year 2022Yearend episode 2021

Here we are at the end of 2021. Another year of the pandemic. When this pandemic started, it was a time to reflect. Reflect, I did and now in the second year–I’d like it to end. I’ve been vaccinated and boosted and, to be honest, I don’t want any more vaccinations, but it’s not about me—it’s about those around me. I want the pandemic to end.

These last two years have been a challenging and trying time. I had a friend die this year of covid. I’ve had a scare with my elderly parents and I’m grateful they’re okay. I feel blessed that everyone and I are healthy. I was hoping the pandemic would have ended with herd immunity, but we never got to the 70% vaccinated to have that occur. I wish I had an answer to what is happening; I don’t think anyone knows.

My year in review.

I started a second podcast called Chica and the Man with podcaster and friend Alex Greenwood of the Mysterious Goings On podcast. It’s so much fun to just talk about anything that comes to mind. The subtitle of Chica and the Man is As Unscripted as it Gets. It’s different from the Poetic Resurrection podcast. Doing this podcast has been slow in editing as my computer crashed and it’s taken me about a month to retrieve my information. I was shocked but can’t complain the computer lasted seven years.

I’m on vacation now and I’m working on my fourth book—Inspire Me: In Time of Need, still. I have a new editor; Ruben Rodriguez and I’m looking forward to the release—early next year. Fingers crossed. I love writing poetry and the last two years have put a slight halt in writing. I guess the pandemic has affected me more than I thought. So many deaths, sending blessings to families for your healing. The dichotomy of this nation and others. This is a world healing time and even though we would like to get back to normal, what is normal anymore?

I’m an avid researcher. I feel exhilarated when I learn a new concept, belief, or skill, and yet I’m exhausted this year. I used to feel I knew what I wanted and now it’s all in question. Do I want to continue acting? I love being on the set, so if it comes up, I’ll be happy to do it. I had two photoshoots this year. One was headshots with Mark Atteberry, which I also use for my podcast, and the other was an artsy shoot with Ken Sawyer. I had a great time doing both. I booked a print job and have auditioned for many shows.

Poetry, another passion of mine since childhood, still exists but it’s changed what I want to write. I’ve gone from writing about acceptance and life to a surreal style. A style I find challenging to write since the reader needs to visualize and understand it.

The Poetic Resurrection Podcast has reached over fifty episodes and has over 1500 downloads and as Alex Greenwood informed me, that’s fantastic for a podcast without an advertising budget. I’m on season three of the podcast and I want to say thank you to all the guests for honoring me with your presence and knowledge.

I meditate every day and decided to become a teacher on the Insight Timer app I have talks and meditations.

The poem for this week is Love and Blessings, recorded in 2020 and is available to see and hear on YouTube. It’s from my upcoming book Inspire Me: In Time of Need.

When thoughts
Overwhelm your being
Send love

When worrying about the family
And wanting to care for them
Send love

When sleep evades
When thoughts repeat
Send love

When finances diminish
And needs remain unmet
Send love

When feeling defeated
When feeling alone
Send love

When feeling fear
That life isn’t fair
Send love

Sending love
Doesn’t cost anything
Sending love
Brings us to the present

Happy New Year–love and blessings.

Music by: Bensound.com
Song: Love

Colors of Life – Luivette Resto, poet

poet: Luivette RestoThis week on Poetic Resurrection we have the Puerto Rican poet Luivette Resto. We discuss her poem Living on Islands Not Found on Maps. How growing up bi-culturally and using Spanglish or as I like to call it “fusion of words”.  We had a great time conversing about Puerto Rican culture. I love guests I can laugh with and laugh we did.

Luivette Resto was born in Aguas Buenas, Puerto Rico, but proudly raised in the Bronx. Her two books of poetry, Unfinished Portrait, and Ascension were published by Tía Chucha Press. Her third collection of poetry is from FlowerSong Press.

Living on Islands Not Found on Maps
I live on an island not found on maps. Growing up in the shadows of one of the most popular surnames: García. I speak Spanish to my abuela on Sundays but rely on Google to help my children with their homework because the accent rules never stuck. Stress or unstress? Penultimate syllable? Took the paradoxical college course: Spanish for Bilinguals where every Tuesday Prof. Cruz de Jesús would shake his head with indignation at my use of the familiar tú versus usted. No me conoce, he said. He was right. He didn’t know me and I didn’t know him or the proper word for bus or orange juice. What I did know is summers in Puerto Rico, eating quenepas as relatives asked, ¿No entiendes lo que dijo tu primo? And my abuela defending my tongue. This tongue. Colonized not once but twice. Leaving me isolated at family reunions.
Feeling inadequate for my inability to conjugate on command. Sounding out store front signs while riding the #42 bus on the way home from Kindergarten where I concentrated to understand Mrs. Farrell’s lessons about the seasons. But I finally found a home between Bronx bodega aisles, code switching with my homegirls about how many times Juana beepeó that boy we saw
standing in front of él building. This became the island where I belonged. Unfettered and absent of red pen corrections. Juana didn’t care if I used the tú or the usted or if my yo was about me or an emphatic reaction to her crazy story. This island didn’t care if I rolled my r’s or ever got the purpose of vosotros. An island where our bodies translated feelings: pursed lips, a raised brow, an aggressive eye or neck roll. We were bilingual neologists, inventing new lands we could carry in our Timbs and bubble coats. Here, language, like us, wasn’t disappointing or broken.

“Living on Islands Not Found on Maps”
first published on The University of Arizona Poetry Center’s website
Nov. 2020. Reprinted by permission Luivette Resto

https://www.luivette.com/

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Colors of Life – Confusion

ConfusionThis week on Poetic Resurrection we discuss confusion. Sometimes I wonder why we go through experiences and maybe read too much into it and then we’re confused. This month didn’t get off to a great start for me. My computer crashed and I’m still recovering my info. I usually have an episode ready each Monday but that hasn’t happened this month. One of the pluses so far this month is that I visited my family in Chicago and I’m blessed to have my parents in good health.

What is confusion? Dictionary’s definition is lack of understanding or uncertainty; the state of being bewildered or unclear in one’s mind about something. Why do we feel this way? Is it because our heart/soul wants us to change? I’ve noticed when I feel confused is when my heart and my mind are at odds. “Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you.” Roger Ebert. I feel I should go one way in a situation but my mind disagrees. “The most confused we ever get is when we’re trying to convince our heads of something our heart knows is a lie.” Karen Marie Moning.  “Your eyes may mislead you sometimes. So don’t be serious in observing, listen to your heart at times when you are confused.” Giridhar Alwar. (gi rid te)

Is it fear? Most likely what stops us from going forward is fear. Do we have the finances to change? Will I lose my home? Is my family okay if I decide to move on? Are you ruled by possessions? At times our financial burdens are because we give our power away to possessions. We have to have the latest electronics, fashions, cars, appliances, etc. It’s one thing if your employment requires equipment, it’s your livelihood, or if you have the cash to buy the items. Another is if you’re getting into debt for them. I have in the past, bought items because I thought I would be perceived as well to do. I wasn’t. I lived from paycheck to paycheck, many of us do. This isn’t how I want to live. It’s stressful not to have your rent, mortgage, money to pay bills and I have been guilty of using my credit cards to survive in times of unemployment. “No matter how confused or deluded we may be at the moment, the underlying and essential nature of our being is clear and pure.”  Lama Yeshe. During the pandemic, many of us learned what’s important, and surprisingly I saw many who refuse to change and blamed the pandemic, politics, and companies for their problems. This is known as one aspect in psychology as psychological projection

Psychological projection is the process of misinterpreting what is “inside” as coming from “outside”. It forms the basis of empathy by the projection of personal experiences to understand someone else’s subjective world. In its malignant forms, it is a defense mechanism in which the ego defends itself against disowned and highly negative parts of the self by denying their existence in themselves and attributing them to others, breeding misunderstanding and causing untold interpersonal damage. A bully may project their own feelings of vulnerability onto the target, or a person who is confused may project feelings of confusion and inadequacy onto other people. Projection incorporates blame shifting and can manifest as shame dumping. Projection has been described as an early phase of introjection.  Wikipedia

“Seek first to understand, then to be understood.” Stephen Covey

The poem for this week is Same from Inspire Me: Raw

Contemplating
Day after day
Wonders of fate

Searching for work
Organizing
Wondering what I’ll do today

Decorating
Writing this
Not knowing the end

At this point in life
I thought I’d succeed
By this time –

A house, a car
Children, husband
None of these

Strange thing –
Content
I think?

So much, so little
Overwhelmed
Organize
Decorate

Write
Stability?
Day after day
I do the same

Many blessings.

Listen to the podcast here

If the feelings are overwhelming there are several organizations listed here that can help.

https://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/disaster-distress-helpline/warning-signs-risk-factors

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Music by:
Relaxing Meditation by Liron
Link: https://filmmusic.io/song/7891-relaxing-meditation
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Colors of Life – Luis J Rodrigues

Luis J RodriguesThis week, we are honored to have Luis J. Rodriguez back on the Poetic Resurrection Podcast. Luis reads his poem, Always Running. This poem describes the hardships of poverty, love loss, and how Luis dealt with his experiences. We discuss the difficulties of growing up in the hood, living in tenements full of roaches, rats, and despair. His episode aired  November 27th and after I posted his episode my computer died so my blogs are behind.  Hoping the audience understands.  Here’s his poem Always Running from Concrete River 1991 Curbstone Press.

Always Running
All night vigil.
My two-and-a-half-year-old boy
and his 10-month-old sister
lay on the same bed,
facing opposite ends;
their feet touching.
They looked soft, peaceful,
bundled there in strands of blankets.
I brushed away roaches that meandered
across their faces,
but not even that could wake them.
Outside, the dark cover of night tore
as daybreak bloomed like a rose
on a stem of thorns.
I sat down on the backsteps,
gazing across the yellowed yard.
A 1954 Chevy Bel-Air stared back.
It was my favorite possession.
I hated it just then.
It didn’t start when I tried to get it going
earlier that night. It had a bad solenoid.
I held a 12-gauge shotgun across my lap.
I expected trouble from the Paragons gang
of the west Lynwood barrio.
Somebody said I dove the car
that dudes from Colonia Watts used
to shoot up the Paragons’ neighborhood.
But I got more than trouble that night.
My wife had left around 10 p.m.
to take a friend of mine home.
She didn’t come back.
I wanted to kill somebody.
At moments, it had nothing to do
with the Paragons.
It had to do with a woman I loved.
But who to kill? Not her–
sweet allure wrapped in a black skirt.
I’d kill myself first.
Kill me first?
But she was the one who quit!
Kill her? No, think man! I was hurt, angry. . .
but to kill her? To kill a Paragon?
To kill anybody?
I went into the house
and put the gun away.

Later that morning, my wife came for her things:
some clothes, the babies. . . their toys.
A radio, broken TV, and some dishes remained.
I didn’t stop her.
There was nothing to say that my face
didn’t explain already.
Nothing to do. . . but run.

So I drove the long haul to Downey
and parked near an enclosed area
alongside the Los Angeles River.
I got out of the car,
climbed over the fence
and stumbled down the slopes.
A small line of water rippled in the middle.
On rainy days this place flooded and flowed,
but most of the time it was dry
with dumped garbage and dismembered furniture.
Since a child, the river and its veins of canals
were places for me to think. Places to heal.
Once on the river’s bed, I began to cleanse.
I ran.

I ran into the mist of morning,
carrying the heat of emotion
through the sun’s rays;
I ran past the factories
that lay smack in the middle
of somebody’s backyard.
I ran past alleys with overturned trashcans
and mounds of tires.
Debris lay underfoot. Overgrown weeds
scraped my legs as I streamed past;
recalling the song of bullets
that whirred in the wind.

I ran across bridges, beneath overhead passes,
and then back alongside the infested walls
of the concrete river;
splashing rainwater as I threaded,
my heels colliding against the pavement.
So much energy propelled my legs
and, just like the river,
it went on for miles.

When all was gone,
the concrete river
was always there
and me, always running.

Luis Rodriguez, “Always Running” from “The Concrete River,” 1991 Curbstone Books

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Colors of Life – Birth of Dough Poem

Birth of Dough poemOne evening, I had a visualization of a baker in the 1500s, working in a sweltering environment making bread. This imagery was so vivid, I wrote it down and decided to write the poem Birth of Dough. After much research into bakers of that period, I learned they were responsible for the main food source of the town. The Black Plague resurfaced around the 1530s in Europe and Nostradamus was a plague doctor then. Unfortunately, his wife and two children died during the plague.

Please see the links below for further information and reading on the subject.

The poem for this week is Birth of Dough from Follow: Akashic Dreaming Through Time.

Crawl of sunlight at the break of dawn as the clay oven’s timbers turn to ash. Patience beholds the birth of dough, it’s now ready. The long-handled peel inserts the town’s substance and waits until the bread’s golden smile. Wheat for nobility, rye, and barley for the peasants, includes my family. Laws and taxes burden the life force of the spiritual nourishment, yet I stood alone in the torture of the plague. The code of Nostradamus the plague doctor’s teachings—rid streets of cadavers, clean bedstraw, fresh air and rosehips for cure—our prayers. False prophets came before him and lured us in your name. Sacrificed joy and uneducated, I followed deceptive prayers believing you spoke and seldom being heard.

We are participants in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

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https://www.thefinertimes.com/bakers-in-the-middle-ages

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plague_doctor

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nostradamus

Colors of Life – Animism & Possessions

Animism & PossessionsWhile cleaning and decluttering, I wondered why we give our mental power to possessions? Why is it so difficult to let go of items? Will we need it later? Was it a gift from a loved one? Did we have a moment of weakness and buy an expensive item that we don’t use? Is it because we have given it a soul/spirit? Wikipedia states, “Animism is the belief that objects, places, and creatures all possess a distinct spiritual essence. Potentially, animism perceives all things-animals, plants, rocks, rivers, weather system, human handiwork, and perhaps even words-as animated and alive.” Can this be the reason it’s difficult to let go? I wonder. There’s so much we don’t understand beyond what we can see. Animism has had different meanings throughout the anthropologic field. These beliefs have existed in many indigenous religions and currently adapted into some New Age beliefs.

But I digress back to clutter. I feel I have given power to objects because of a memory of where I bought it, who I was with, or it warmed my heart even for a moment. There’s a vast industry in decluttering possessions, so I will not cover it here. Marie Kondo states “Tidying is the act of confronting yourself”. I have to agree. Once it goes into a donation box, trash or save. I don’t look at it again because I will start taking items out. Have I given away possessions that I needed later-yes, years later? In the meantime, I’ve used valuable real estate to store something I might use. Sometimes I forget what I have bought and buy it again. I had three tape measures. I only needed one. “Clutter is the physical manifestation of unmade decisions fueled by procrastination.” Christina Scalise. Yes, I agree with this as well. I’ve walked into a room and have been overwhelmed by the amount of sorting of items in boxes that need to be completed. I just closed the door and said I’ll deal with it another day.

My home is quite stylish. I love decorating. It’s something I picked up when I studied interior design in college and then worked at interior design companies. I guess what I’m looking for is minimalism. Every time I give something away, I’m happy I have one less thing. In the past, I enjoyed having many items because I felt the stuff hugged me. Sad but true. Now I want it clear—empty. So, have I been practicing Animism? I don’t know, but if we give our possessions so much weight, then maybe we’re all practicing this. “The question of what you want to own is also the question of how you want to live your life”. Marie Kondo.

“The greatest freedom is to be free of our own mind.”
— Osho

The poem for this week is Place from Inspire Me: Raw.

Home—I pride myself
Its warmth—inviting—peaceful
My tranquility

Living room—spacious
It’s calming and welcoming
Drawn to entertain

Bedroom—quiet space
Flourishing sanctuary
Trance captivation

Office—chaotic
Paper, file drawers overflow
Technology too

My mind—the office
Filled with useless memories
Obsolete systems

Yet I still cling
Time and fear. Recollections
Relinquishing thoughts

Inner voices guide
Mantra’s deafening echoes
Let go, let go—now!

Get a copy of Inspire Me Raw

Listen to the Poetic Resurrection Podcast here or at PR Podcast

For further reading on Animism
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animism

Music:
Clean Soul by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/3514-clean-soul
License: https://filmmusic.io/standard-license

 

Colors of Life – Ram Dass & Being

Ram Dass & BeingI watched an entire season of Ram Dass teachings and all the quotes this week are his.

The teachings had everything in it from his disliking of people, to his sexuality, to his questioning of Enlightenment. But what I noticed throughout the entire season it’s about being. He was just being.

How difficult it is for most of us to just be. Just sit still to quiet the mind and just be. So much of what we learn is to be a doer or a thinker or a seeker.

“The thinking mind is what is busy. You have to stay in your heart. You have to be in your heart. Be in your heart. The rest is up here in your head where you are doing, doing, doing.” 

The idea of being is just being. We have the answers to our lives, but we don’t sit quietly to hear what they are saying. There is more to us than this three-dimensional physical plane. We see this in our dreams, meditations and sometimes we get that aha moment when we talk to somebody or watch a TV show or overhear someone speaking. It’s amazing to me when you get those little nudges and I don’t know where they come from. Is it intuition? Is it our higher self, our angels, spirit guides? In the past, when I have fought these nudges, I will fall flat on my face. So, follow that intuition, Spirit guides, higher self, etc. because it’s usually right. “Remember, we are all affecting the world every moment, whether we mean to or not. Our actions and states of mind matter, because we’re so deeply interconnected with one another. Working on our own consciousness is the most important thing that we are doing at any moment, and being love is the supreme creative act.”

These nudges told me to write and publish my poetry. I was scared to do that because yes; I was exposing who I was. I was afraid I would not be accepted. The opposite happened. I was accepted. This same little nudge came to me constantly for two years to start up the Poetic Resurrection podcast. I didn’t know what the podcast should be about. I knew it would not be about acting. Then, during the pandemic, I saw people marching and helping at food banks and I thought, how wonderful would life be if we had self-love and self-acceptance? With these acceptances, it would be easy to accept and love others. There would be no fear of loss. Whichever direction these nudges are directing you, they need to be of a kind heart.

Unconditional love really exists in each of us. It is part of our deep inner being. It is not so much an active emotion as a state of being. It’s not ‘I love you’ for this or that reason, not ‘I love you if you love me.’ It’s love for no reason, love without an object.”

The poem for this week is Continuum from Inspire Me: Perception.

Continuum

Spring florets glimmer
In afternoon light
Scent of fresh tulips
Myths of existence—fables

Trembling in 90 degrees
Veneer of tears
Illusions of turmoil
Created by self
Head spins—Pandora’s Box

Seven sins tap across the stage of
A cardinal songbird
As the earthfall cleanses itself
Hope gathers irises
For a rainbow bridge

Oyá* conjures and flees storm
Yemaya*—mother disapproves
Amazon and Niger Rivers
Dominated
Femininity protected

Travel—Antipodes
Indian ocean with full moonlight
Glistens as the waves erupt
Hera’s* vengeful heart
Aches from illegitimate family

Crumbled mirror of water
Tears cascade past seven years,
Moisture blooms lilies of death
Phoenix’s ashes resurrected
In endless evolution

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Get Ram Dass life-changing book Be Here Now at https://amzn.to/2ZQ6iuW

Check out his website: https://www.ramdass.org/

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  • Oyá uses tornados as her weapon and raises dead armies to use as her warriors.
  • Yemaya is a powerful orisha who’s the mother of living things.
  • Hera is Zeus’ wife, best known for her jealousy of Zeus’s other family.

 

Colors of Life – The Little Girl

The Little GirlYesterday, I was honored to once again interview Luis J. Rodriguez for an upcoming episode on Poetic Resurrection. We spoke for about two hours and we had an amazing conversation about many subjects, including sexual abuse. Being a survivor of this, I had written the poem The Little Girl featured in my first book, Inspire Me: Raw. I’m grateful to my parents for being there for me. It was an experience I thought I had overcome since I could talk about the situation. But, I hadn’t.

It wasn’t until I wrote the poem that I could release the shame and trauma I was holding onto. It served no purpose but to keep me down. Why would I want to hold on to that? The situation is that we sometimes don’t know we’re still holding onto the past. It has a way of showing up as a trigger and that’s when I knew I had to work on letting go. I don’t believe in “forgive and forget”. Yes, I can forgive, but you don’t forget. You learn to forgive them and yourself for holding onto so much pain throughout your life.

I’ve noticed many survivors talk about their experience and I wanted to do the same; I just wrote from the perspective of the child, because the child doesn’t understand.

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The Little Girl from Inspire Me: Raw

The little girl walks to school
Tenements line gray streets
She does well in school
Her five-year-old stature
Shows resistance & strength

Drawings of prismic colors
Joy and glee adorn her face
Hesitant to show teacher
Waiting for praise—teacher questions
She understood but couldn’t answer

Teacher screams at her
Points—to disappear into
The sea of moveable desk
She gazes at her tattered shoes
Her friend speaks English, she does not

Colorless teacher was unkind
To the little girl
Who only speaks Spanish
Tears flow down her face
She hides – the teasing kids

Goes home, keeps to herself
Pretends to be an actress
Living a world that wasn’t her own
Only hearing voices of a different land
Citizens we are, but not considered same

Pretending so young to be okay
Her seven-year-old friend
Said she wanted to play
A store basement, dark and clammy
Her friend gazes on while she screams
“It hurts,”. “Why did you do this?”

A teenage boy
Took friend’s innocence and
Now he’s taken the little girl’s
Her soul and worth
But she doesn’t understand

The store owner saves her,
Atop soaring stairs
Bold voice of disgust
Vibrates the crypt
Boy halts, he runs

She now rests at home
A peeling grey wood porch
Third-floor view—sits on step
Sunless hallway
Looking at the sky so blue

Doesn’t know how she got there
Mind’s a haze of events
Discolored panties, hand washed often
Advertise the status of her little life

The bandages trying to hold
The innocence lost. It’s too late
Mom looks at her—
Turns away and cries.
Did she do something wrong?
Sorry you’re hurting; doesn’t know what to do

I’m sorry mom
Don’t mean to make you cry
Don’t mean to make you cry
Tears never came to me
The little girl who didn’t understand

 

Colors of Life – Season 3 Intro

Colors of LifeWelcome to season 3 of the Poetic Resurrection Podcast. This season we will touch upon the “Colors of Life”, an international perspective with an introspective edge. We have poets and writers of different backgrounds who will read and discuss their writings. This is a breakaway from the usual podcast which steers away from politics and religion. They will speak about what happens in their culture, belief systems, and challenges they face. As always, love and acceptance are our perspectives. Just the experiences and acceptance of self and others. Join us for this insightful look at international existence and the different cultures and beliefs that create our world.

The poem for this week is Citizen from Inspire Me: Raw. I wrote this poem several months before Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico. It surprised me to hear from many people that they didn’t know Puerto Ricans were American citizens. On a side note, people from Guam are also American citizens. Please join us in this new and exciting season and here’s the poem Citizen.

Citizen

Curly red hair
Freckled skin
Speaking Spanish
Not fitting in

People’s bias
Perceptions
Ignorance
Citizen

Where are you from?
How did you get here?
Was it a struggle?
No—citizen

No boats
No tunnels
No hiding
Airplanes

I belong here
Born here
Educated
Citizen

Listen to this episode on this website or Direct to Colors of Life Hosted site

Poetic Resurrection Podcast

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YouTube video CITIZEN