Yesterday, I lost my cousin. He was a gentle soul and a dreamer whose life was much too short. Like I do, I wrote a poem to express myself. Dear E, this is for you.

I have learned to catalogue the names
Of my loved ones on my soul
Tattoo them in the chambers of my heart
Because once their light goes out
All that is left are the memories
Frozen in color, sometimes in motion
Often beneath the plastic sleeves of albums,
A beloved phrase, and a half-remembered smile
Because we all want a sweet life
No one knows your struggles
But I’ll collect your stories
So I may find you again

May your gentle soul Rest In Perfect Peace!

your horoscope says:

“Go back. The hour approaches. The number 7 will favor only the ruthless. Your Soul Mate hums an ode to remembrance. The shadow maker awaits.”

This July, I want to invite you to come nano with me. We’ll have weekly updates, tea and cookies, and write-a-thons at three in the morning. Although we’ll wish we were on the other side of the finish line each and every moment, I want us to enjoy the process because the journey makes the destination. ​

Your Horoscope Says:

 “A stranger carries a suitcase full of possibilities. He is a man detached from the present. Your True Love briefly flirts with time. Pour water on the road to set him straight.”

Your Horoscope Says:

“A friend is on a journey. The stars are watching. Do not approach the angel at the intersection. The one on the side walk will prove friendlier. Your True Love contemplates the weather.”

If you ever get lost
Look to the north star
It will bring you home
Guide you back down to earth

If you're ever wanting
Rub a lamp on its side
It will grant your wishes
Wealth flows with the tide

So wake your dreams up
Shoot for the moon
Make the first move
It will all end right

If you so believe, then it will be
What is opened on Earth will open above
The skies will open and you will see
That the falling water are showers of blessings
Come to wipe your tears clean

This new year is going to be something different
We leave all the bad energy of the last behind
All our failures, pain and mistakes
To remind us how lucky we are
To make it through the turbulent times

A fresh new wind is blowing
My sadness far, far away
A bold new me in the making
Built on the blueprints of my yesterday
And you will know me
For I am born again
I'll blow you kisses of love instead
Of the blood I used to cry

In honor of #MLKDay and current events, here is "I dream in English," a poem I wrote years ago that is, sadly, even more relevant today. Let us never forget the brave men and women who fought--through words and their actions--for a better tomorrow.  As long as there are laws, words, actions and beliefs that still proclaim the superiority of one person over the other, the Dream is still not realized. We must pass the torch to the next generation because this battle is not yet won. While I hope we can dream a better tomorrow, I hope we can work towards it with great fervor and love. 

As the year ends, I rise
To the occasion of the new one
Ashes are templates upon which
To build your new dreams on
I pull out all my rotten parts
Salted the earth so they may grow no more
I reach for a new dawn
Climb up the walls of ivory-plated tower of failures
To seek anew the dreams of my forebears
The cohesiveness of my past with my future
To render a more unified present
Which I present to my newborn self
And as the year ends, I rise

Your Horoscope Says:

"Your True Love is on the third rock from the sun. You must meet your soul mate before to clear the path to her.
​The color blue will favor you but, first, it demands a sacrifice.
​Please, do not stargaze tonight. The stars will be awake and gazing down."

There is something in my past
It eats away at my future
I do not yet know what it is
But it is jeopardizing tomorrow
I must pull it by the root
So that it may never grow again

Your Horoscope Says:

“Contemplate the purpose of being. The philosophy of endeavoring.
The west favors you today.
​Be suspicious of those wearing the color green.”

Find me all the time in a castle of gray and white
When you do, ask me what I left behind
In time you will see that all I am
Is not what I proclaim to be

I am a shell of a shell
Was never true to myself
Perhaps it's not too late to learn
That a helping hand eases the pain

My castle is overgrown, I should cut the weed
But the thorns are digging deeper, leaving fine scratches on my skin

I hired a gardener to oversee
The cleaning and pruning of thorns and weeds
He took one close look at me
And created a sculpture of my visage

It is me, he corrected eagerly
How he sees me! Surprised, I've never seen myself
I am amazed, looking around, noticing
That the thorns and weed were made to resemble me

Come spring, I'll have a garden of fragrant flowers
That my gardener has nurtured himself
He's got a green thumb, an affinity for growth
I meant to keep him... If he's not already mine​

Your Horoscope says:

“Endurance through the long night reveals the brightest dawn.
Consult the stars.
Your True Love folds six socks. He frowns. They are missing their half. The dryer smirks.
​Carry a water bottle with you today."

Inhale the winter’s breeze
Green turns bare
Life; a knotted ending

Your horoscope says:

“Perfection cannot be rushed. It does not exist.
Your soulmate awaits in the unlikeliest of places. Remain vigilant.
​Your True Love hides his face. ”

Your Horoscope Says:

“To everything there is a season.
​The eve is upon us.
Patience will flower beauty while impatience yields only barren fields."