transient sanctuary

“forever” is the only con
I still swear upon–
like the blood pact
with your best friend
when you were both ten

because the space where
I love you like a child
it’s not coincidental
it is my transient sanctuary
to be let in
you need to take off everything
but the timeless essence within–
it’s the place where
I alchemize
pain into art
so it never gets the slightest chance
to touch my Heart.

suffering moves through me
as I remain fluid like the sea
the only name for it is:

Soul Vows to Myself

We gather here today to forgive ourselves for all the things that we do and tolerate only because we’ve waited so long and we want to be loved and held and cared for unconditionally. We gather here today to remember that our love should be celebrated, not tolerated.

  • I forgive myself for looking at conditional love and believing that’s the only type of love out there
  • I forgive and accept this current version of myself who, with the present knowledge and awareness I have, is doing her best
  • I protect and support myself through all of the changes and uncertainties
  • I admire myself for my strength and resilience
  • I admire myself for remaining soft, and sweet, and caring after walking through fires that could’ve burnt or hardened me
  • I love myself for stepping out of my own way through surrendering the need for control
  • I forgive myself for overstaying my welcome in places that couldn’t bear my light
  • I forgive myself for believing that my love is worth it only when it is convenient to others
  • I forgive myself for blaming and shaming myself in the name of self-reflection and accountability for other’s inability to meet my needs
  • I allow myself to feel insecure and uncertain and I forgive myself for all the actions that follow through that level of awareness

May you know you worth enough to walk out of people and situations that don’t belong with you. May the language of your soul be understood without translation. May you surround yourself with people that find your silence comfortable, not threatening. May you surround yourself with people that find your presence meaningful and peaceful. May you be healthy, happy, and free. May you find peace.

Sun Salutations

My apartment faces East
so the sun enters each room
one at a time
first the bedroom
then the living room
and finally the kitchen.
The cat follows the sunbeams
stretching his body to fit
as much of them as possible
moving alongside him
are the hands of the clock
that hangs on the wall
next to it, the ivy dances
following the same rotation.
I heal and try to shine
in spite of my old patterns
I remember I’m moving with Nature
I feel the cat, the plant, and the clock
all inside of me–
doing sun salutations
always aiming towards
the Light.

Found in Translation

You don’t have to explain yourself to be worthy of love. Let me explain.
The biggest lie you were ever told is that you are hard to love. You are easy to love. So easy. For the love that is active. You are worthy of love without you going out of your way and fitting yourself to the image they have in their head for you. It’s like trying to fit the entire ocean in a cup. Maybe your heart sings a song that their ears are not meant to hear. Maybe it’s time for you to free yourself from the tight grip of the hearts that need translation. Maybe it’s time for you to stop putting on subtitles on the movie that is your life. Maybe it’s time for you to stop looking for the parts of you that you believe contributed in something not working out. You don’t have to dissect, break down in smaller pieces, and serve your heart to make it easy and convenient for them to love parts of you that can fit their capacity for love. And maybe your fear of abandonment doesn’t have anything to do with your trauma, your past history: maybe it comes from you chronically abandoning yourself. Maybe what’s draining you is the work you do to help them understand the depths of your well. Your love is wide, deep, limitless, timeless, transformative, mysterious (even to you sometimes), predictable only in its unpredictability–of course it will be inconvenient to many–will they show up or will they pass this time? Whatever the answer may be, it is never your job to spend your life translating your soul.

a friend there

Befriended solitude
as any good writer should
to the point where
it knew me so well–
but in my wildest fantasy
I still imagine a friend there.

Shifted my mood
as any self-reflective person would
to the point where
fault became orphaned.
Exercised introspection until
anger became strength
and silence protection.

Does fear stop you halfway
and you start counting all
you’d have to give away?
Or do you have it in you
to love someone all the way
to where it doesn’t feel sacrificial?
–to love yourself all the way
to where it doesn’t feel sacrilegious?

Is the hopeless romantic
only good for melancholic
art?–touched only by the hands
that hold the paper
words underlined
dissected by precise literary surgeons
in round seating arrangements,
admired by afar?

Next time you’re faced
with the choice to
be avoidant or better
I hope you choose the latter.
Next time you’re faced
with the choice
to be destructive or better
I hope you choose the latter.

Lust will work out
but it was never about
what I made it about.
Non-commitment feels like freedom
but it is never about
what it is about–
it will soon wear you out.
So, exercise introspection
to the point where
anger becomes fuel
the comfort of your doubt

and you
show up.

I am patriarchy–patriarchy is me.

I think I’m better than someone
I think I’m worse than someone
I am patriarchy—patriarchy is me.

I feel insecure and unsure
when others know more than me
I don’t think there’s enough for both of us–
so I fight for me
I am patriarchy—patriarchy is me.

I feel threatened by
someone’s confidence and boundaries
I need to find ways
to make them feel less—for myself
I am patriarchy—patriarchy is me.

I feel more powerful
because someone else is less powerful
than me–
I am patriarchy—patriarchy is me.

I need to control someone
something outside of me–
I am patriarchy—patriarchy is me.

My reality is one of domination
and power over–
My reality is one of submission
and obedience–
I am patriarchy—patriarchy is me.


There was a time
when my limbs were loose
and flowing with me–
my tongue unleashed and care-free.

Before my life became an act
of remembering the spontaneous–
I was spontaneity.

Before my words became attempts
and close approximations of the truth–
I was Truth.

Before my grandmother covered the mirror
because “that’s where Satan lives”
before my Self was traded
in the black market of tradition
for the tribal definition
of a good woman–
I was Me.

Before my life became an act
of unlearning–
I knew everything.
Before my days were spent remembering
I was spending my days Being.

billy joel

where is the me
that was trying so hard
to impress the guy?
I was a baby at 19
working at olive garden
Everytime billy joel comes up
I meet her and him inside of me
and the rest of the time
I’m proud I’ve shed them off.

where is the me
that was crying
in the girls’ restroom
feeling everything but pretty
wanting to shred that dress to pieces
Everytime I leave the party early
I meet her inside of me
and the rest of the time
I swear I’ve shed her off.

where is the you
that was watching
the rubber ducks float
in the bathtub water?
The you that walked up to strangers
and told them your name
the you that showed your age using your fingers
the you that jumped on the snow barefoot
that blushed when you called your teacher, mom?

Everytime I see the light in your eyes
I meet him inside of you
and the rest of the time
I’m afraid you’ve shed him off.

Adult child

“Go ahead, I’ll come in a bit”
I was 12 and staring at the wooden ceiling
of the attic
I heard you climbing up the stairs
you were 85 and out of breath
“The soup is getting cold”, you said
when you got there
“Go ahead, I’ll come in a bit”

What they called an old soul
was a childhood sold prematurely
in the black market
and the thieves were welcomed home
they threw them a feast and called it family
“Come eat with us, we saved you a seat”
“Go ahead, I’ll come in a bit”

The short-lived dream
of a little girl
I held it for a moment there
with one hand
I ride my first two-wheel bike
“Watch, no hands!”
I saw you through the eyes
of a 5 year old
but when I opened them
a quarter of my life had gone

No preparation for the tears I would cry
no medal for putting you first all the time
I was an adult as a child
the unceremonious passage of time
I close my eyes
and see you whole and complete
the full version of me
“Stay, we’ll take it from here”.