Poetry

Come Unity

Come back unity,

the glue that once held together our, now fractured, community.

Come Unity,

and bring back to broken families what once made us whole,

When we knew the value of diamonds and gold,

was nothing when compared to the wealth of our soul

Bring back to broken kids what used to give them pride.

When they judged themselves, not on a price tag,

but on what is priceless: what’s inside.

Come back Unity,

An integral part of Community.

You can’t spell one without the other,

Just like us, they rely on each other.

If we put the focus on community,

From poverty we can achieve impunity,

From crime have immunity,

Working together, we can create opportunity

Come Unity

back into our community

And let us heal each other,

the way it should be,

With a helping hand and an open heart

With the knowledge we are all a part

Of something bigger than just one house, one block, one dream,

We are all Family,

All a part of the same team

Our kids seem to have forgotten,

Or maybe we’ve lapsed n’ haven’t taught ‘em,

That Unity is what we need to heal each other,

What we need to help us see,

That our future depends on community.

United we stand strong, stand tall.

Divided we will surely fall:

With no one to turn too,

No one to call.

Together we’re strong, We look out for our own,

Because we know no one can make it alone.

Be there for your neighbor when times are rough,

To show compassion is to be tough

It takes strength to be nice,

It takes courage to care,

As a community we can withstand the downturn,

Let’s trample the fear.

The future isn’t so scary when someone is there,

Whether it’s to offer an ear,

Or advice you can trust, It’s easy to see,

To live in peace, we need Unity.

Come back Unity and watch us thrive

Bringing families back to life,

Part of a community, standing together, through stress and through strife,

We’ll do better than just get by, than barely survive,

We’ll remember how good it can feel to be alive.

Word By Word

A struggle I fight in various ways

To move, grow, keep on the go

Maintain the flow

Money, Energy, Inspiration

Are the fuel I n eed to reach my destination

Obstacles don’t rest,

So neither will I

Avert the pressures-mark the spies

By spying the marks, talking their jive,

Trying to survive by messing with my vibe?

Like I ain’t putting in overtime on overdrive?

Just to keep my dream alive

To thrive on the inside

To elevate my whole tribe

So there’ll be no more

Working so hard—just to be poor

To get a foot in tha door,

Spreading blood, sweat and fears, like a capitalist whore

But I fear nothing-no more.

If the only thing to fear is fear itself,

I t stopped being useful—I put it on the shelf.

I’ve paid my dues, gave of myself,

Where’s the recognition?

Scratch that—Where’s the wealth?

But having the wisdom, doesn’t mean they’ll give you a turn-

I’ve got brains, brawn and talent to burn

Yet they only want to focus on the face,

Only wanna see a woman in lace,

Use her up till there is no trace—

Of what a woman should be

I tell ‘em to back on up, cuz that just ain’t me

I have no interest in pleasing you to get what I need

Have no problem putting in the work it takes to be free

I don’t owe you shit, so stop hawkin’ me.

My pen is mightier than a sword

And I’ll use it to write my future—Word by Word

And one day the book of Sara will read,

“It was with an open mind, an open heart she undertook every deed,

Even with the use of violence

Her voice they could not silence—

Her soul they couldn’t corrupt

For she always stayed True—

And her Consciousness did rise, til her final day was through”.

Love is in the Details

Love is in the details—like grand writing, or God.

Love always Prevails

When you refuse to surrender, how can you fail?

Love holds tight, but also lets go

It yearns to protect, but wants you to grow

Love gives for pleasure, not for show

It’s shown in those ways you must pay attention to know

It’s pure and hard like second day snow

When he calls you by the name only both of you share

Looks deep in your eyes and can’t help but stare

You know Love is there

Calls to ask if you made it, just cause he cares

When he feels vulnerable, doesn’t put on airs

Would rather walk away then cause you more tears

Love isn’t always steady and though it may wane

With care and attention, it can be regained

Though sometimes weak, it will bend but won’t break

For Love, like you and me, sometimes makes a mistake

We can learn of its beauty through Love’s heartbreak

If we see the value of Love before it’s too late

Love is Truth, so it can’t be faked

Love is free, you don’t have to give to take

There is nothing so intense as lost Love’s ache

When he shows up in the morning with coffee your way

If he comes to the door with your favorite wine

Takes note of your order to know for next time

It’s the care taken in the little things that make Love sublime

If you missed it the first time, I’ll repeat the line:

Love is in the details

Passion flames fiercely, but its inferno consumes

It feeds on itself til it emits deadly fumes

Chemistry is pure electricity,

Nerve endings charged,

hormones spark luscious felicity

complicated feelings dissolve into simplicity

but in reality, it’s a chemical complicity

Not a solid basis for a blissful domesticity

Love is the development of countless subtle gestures

You might not take notice at first

But then he repeats your favorite line,

You think, “ I guess he was listening the entire time”

He goes for your bag, your box, or your door

You could do it yourself, like you’ve always done before

But suddenly you realize it’s a pleasure, not seen as a chore

It thrills him to lend a strong hand to the one he adores

Time and time again he always makes sure

To offer you help you don’t even ask for

By being there through these silent times

Love builds its rapport

I don’t mean to sound like a bore,

I know I’ve already said it twice before,

But it’s the truth, so I’ll say it once more:

Love is in the details.

For My Hero

You were born “Saleen”, such a beautiful name.

I don’t tell my brother named you after his favorite Mustang.

Holding you changed me inside.

Claiming you as my niece swells me with pride.

Hearing you say “My auntie” is a luscious high.

The way you look at me—those adoring eyes,

I swear, your little hug, so mighty, it would break the fiercest tide.

I remember being in college: young and wild.

A sabor picante—never mild.

Bursting with the unbridled curiousity of a child

I devoured life.

Spoke my mind.

With brio, sought out all the ideas I could find.

Was sure I knew it all,

with a mind like mine, I’d never fall.

Felt so strong and 10 feet tall

Loud and proud, quick to verbally brawl

Thought if your theory opposed mine

—your brain—like your experience— was small.

Then God sent me wisdom

in the form of a living doll.

She breathed, eyelashes fluttered.

I understood what Lauryn Hill meant when she uttered,

“I’ve never been in love like this before”.

Every time I thought it was full, my heart grew more.

Saleen, you taught me how much it could store.

More than my niece, you’re a fourth my kid.

I raised you as much as Grandma, my brother, and your mom did.

When you grow up kinda poor,

you really know, it takes a whole village to make a child grow.

Making you smile was the greatest happiness I could know.

Then decided, God, to even the score,

Gathered all the bad karma from all my lifetimes before.

And my sweet Saleen fell sick.

Hospitals, seizures, medication…

A childhood shouldn’t be so sad.

Guess in my previous life—I was really, really bad.

How can you face each day with so much strength and courage?

You’ll never know how you inspire and encourage.

Still just a baby,

yet so much stronger than me.

You blow me mind.

It breaks my heart, every time.

Wish I could make things easier for you,

but there’s only so much I can do.

And it’s never enough.

Like it or not, this disease makes your days rough.

At eight years old, you’re so fucking tough.

Now I see with new found clarity,

how selfish and petty I used to be.

How can I fear judgment or failure?

Let anything weak, like rejection or lack of belief,

get in the way of the success and love I seek?

My sweet baby, your struggle has made me so meek.

You’re facing death.

You laugh at pain.

It makes everything else, seem like a game.

My angel is dying.

What excuse can I ever have now, for not trying?

My battle is a bad joke told by an alcoholic comic too drunk to make sense,

compared to yours.

My battle is no battle,

compared to yours.

Oh God, you wouldn’t believe how humble I’ve become.

Or was that was your plan, all along…

How boring would it be?

I used to be an idealist, but then I moved out on my own.

Now I’m left with a list-of-ideals.

Aside from this very, real list,

I’m a realist.

I’m into realism, because I real-ize, after being in the real world:

You can’t get away from the real “isms”

Sexism

Classism

Racism

Then you have the “isms” the academics don’t study,

but in re-ality, are real “isms”:

Lookism

Weightism

All this prejudgment

prejudices me against judgement.

Can’t we merely look and see; without having to disagree?

How about we agree, not to decree, how other people should be?

If it’s different—don’t fear it.

You’ll never come to appreciate what you fear.

How boring would it be…

If men were always in charge?

If Latinos always picked fruit, and cleaned other peoples’ houses?

If rich people always made the rules,

and poor people always did the work?

If skinnier was always sexier?

If you could always foretell the quality of the gifts inside, just by looking at the box?

If we always believed everything we saw on TV,

agreed with everything we read in books?

If every time we opened our mouths, someone else’s words came out?

If ALWAYS, in ALL WAYS, things were the same?

See, the problem is:

If you always look out the window of your exact same eyes,

—you’ll always see the exact same view.

How boring would that be?

What if you could be something more divine, than

always being most important?

Something more sublime

than always being right?

What if you could be…

Yourself?

“We should not feel embarrassed by our difficulties, only by our failure to grow anything beautiful from them.”