poetry
you came from a light that burst like dandelions drifting on the summer breeze. growing into fruit shapes whispering to me from within. i wasn't afraid. peanut butter disgusted you and days of turning my insides out kept me prepared for your sparkle. the longing for grass between my toes told me we shared the same love. as you grew, i grew. my anger softened. years of healing, walking through darkness was meant for you.
motherhood isn't just a roller coaster, it's the act of creating a whole universe with your bare hands. some days volcanoes erupted while tears flooded caves. my heart felt as though it had seen all the beauty of the earth in one single wave.
you. you appear to me like sunsets, rainstorms, blooming meadows and sleepy Sundays. with sticky fingers, scratched table tops and sandy floors, patience is called. the mirror to my triggers - what needs the most healing shines back at me and I work to be better than the past. so the cycle can end. still me, but never the same. you call out the worst in me, but ask for the best.
you came from light.
my teacher.
my friend.
one.
like most stories, there are always variations depending on who is telling it. my name never felt like it belonged to me.
not even my last name. it was chosen, changed, shortened, misspelled. mispronounced. i hated my name. i hated myself more.
two.
the day i found my birth certificate, i learned i was a hyphenated maria. all six of my sisters are. maria - a result of spanish colonization and the 'm' to honour our mother. lina, to honour my adopted mother. she wanted to rename me charlina. my birth father wanted to name me mayfair.
three.
how can one belong to oneself, if not even your name belongs to you? the name used in childhood doesn't sound or feel the same anymore.
four.
divorce called me to step into my name. to pronounce it the way it was intended, the way my mother tongue wanted. the way my mother wanted. saying it is like breathing life back into my soul. shedding the past, reclaiming my power and returning love back to self.
campsites and parks are supposed to be left the way you first arrived, if not better. hearts and people should be treated like that too. you were built on a weak foundation, conditioned by someone else's pain.
how could you be better, if you didn't know better?
but you learned. blossomed, despite the instinct to run or destroy. the desire to break away instead of be broken.
you grew. learned to be open, arms stretched toward the sunshine in trust. acceptance of the love you deserved.
we spoke to the land, but were labeled as savages.locked up in cages for a human zoo. slaves, used for pleasure and sprayed with bleach to be cleaned. we fought for our freedom, but were stripped of it. our islands carelessly passed through hands, as though a mere object. we watched our oceans turn red, war staining our self-worth.
rage fills our bloodlines.
the disdain for our skin - for ourselves, a reflection of trauma.
imagine still owning our lands. our people flourishing like the fields of rice once feeding our communities. our coconuts soothing our own skin, instead of others. our mothers raising our own children, instead of others. our daughters loving their dark, golden armour instead of wishing for it to be lighter.
imagine our tongues still connected.
our questions answered.
our families whole.
nanay, perhaps your spirit is in my bones.
sharing the same birth date and name as my mother.
offering sanctuary and feeding others, fueling the rebellion.
i reflect on the deeds i've done for others.
actions never done for the expectation of gratitude.
generosity doesn't warrant a thank you or praise.
feeling good isn't a reward for kindness.
despite the betrayals, i too don't have regrets
and i would gladly do it again.
may love hold this space and fill our hearts
with compassion, acceptance and gratitude.
let us appreciate the gifts of mother earth and give thanks in remembrance that through her, we have all we need.
let joy surround us so that our light remains constant, and even if it wavers may it serve as a beacon for others.
may we have trust in our work as we heal, so does our past, our present and our future.
may love continue to hold us,
our friends, our family and our communities
in this moment, today and always.