So ethereal, the way the water pools into my cupped hands; its velvety caress and the cacophony of unpatterned rhythm lure me in to a tantric state. The being becomes what it surrounds itself with, the enlightenment comes from acceptance and awareness of this magical world around us. I am on a higher plane and outer space can be so refreshing.
I don’t take drastic measures, they must seem that way. I only take measures to reach what I hope to achieve. Last year I learned when I should cut back the ill growth of this fragrant rose bush that I am trying to cultivate. I have already learned this year when to let go of leaves that are meant to fall. For the greater good, I make choices because there is no point in holding on to thinly dangling foliage. I have also been in the process of learning how to fertilize and in learning when it is necessary to cut back excessive growth–My roots dig in deeper into this rich soil. It is all love in this horizon; it’s just that love sometimes might hurt a little in some places. I hope I have the willpower to heed the words of the wise and the courage to stand alone as I cultivate this Golden Celebration.
A new breath leaves my lungs and it sounds like a sad goodbye, but it’s a welcome hello. A calming wave rushes down my back stealthily and it feels like a ghost’s touch, but it’s a warm embrace.
Something new is growing inside of me.
A faster heartbeat pumps within my chest and it sounds like it’s fear, but it’s my body about to take flight. It’s not adrenaline; it’s the soaring of a seagull above the water.
New skin grows while old skin is shedding away.
All of my cells are cleaning away debris and it feels like a storm surge, but in reality it is purification with sparkling water. My muscles loosen, I exhale, and sleep on the treetops comfortably.
This new thing is changing me.
She woke up and thanked the light of the sun for letting her breathe deeply before the day even begun. Woken to laughter and joy emanating from restricted bodies in their respective cages showed her that it wasn’t where you were, but who you became from it. Every gift has not been tied with a bow and some brought her so low she wished she were six feet underneath the rock blanketed by the night’s stars. The moments when she was deep down, wooden caskets deteriorated to free a changing body. The debris paved the way to aid in the growth of rainbow eucalyptus trees breathing fresh life into the birds and their tiny, fast-beating hearts. That way, when the flood came, her soul would fly to the atmosphere of this spherical planet that took you places and brought you back.
La, da, da-da.
Feel my power. Two flying birds are swimming in purple-gray skies that are cracking open before my eyes. Sweet lavender and jasmine. The birds circle the ring of fire that signify the irises of my eyes as they glisten with depth. They are facing the skies I eulogize in my memories–tomorrow.
Rumbles reverberate from my chest as I hum pin-drop tunes. Birds fly in the sky together as one and I try to grasp their spirit and emulate it onto me. When the fires start to pour all will be indistinguishable from polymer plastics to electricity crumbling my lavender skies.
Two birds of a feather shed excess weight to fly higher and love one another while flowing towards migration patterns to sing the flowers out of trouble.
I see the shape of planets in my deep afternoon sky as they reveal volcanic eruptions and whirlpools of dust. Each tree is a grass this evening. The storm is coming now. Origins within my mind as two birds diverge to open up my path to the sky. I am the splitting Earth. My breath an implosion, explosion.
Somehow feeling happy once again. With the eloquence of authors disguising their crinoid minds with modernity… I find a niche. Last night was a dark night filled with the fluttering of black and iridescent crows. Thousands of feet of altitude have provided my head with the space necessary to reclaim a moment of joy as sweet as the Moscato wine I used to dry the oozing depression from a violent altercation. Some things make for an unhappy piece of heaven right down on Earth. The auburn in my brown hair is calling my attention because it has been running wild and clouding my vision once again. Home states are screeching my name and I recall how proud I am of my mother and father, the latter not being biological. I miss my gorgeous baby brother that blew me kisses more frequently than the wind blew the palm fronds of Florida. Flying over old homes brings me back to memories of Alligator Alley and thunderous days that have forever scarred my memory with imprinted grasses on my soul. I would sit on the driveway and contemplate whether I was truly alive. Last night I pounded fists on the table and shattered the walls of my glass body from the inside as the pressure rose to extremes. Within me there existed plasma ready to leek out of my brown eyes in hues of red from all the oceans of my eyes, the saltiest of the saltiest. Every breath I am taking moves my face through cool clouds of what appear to be gray water droplets. They are holding themselves together the same way I held my knees to my chest as I kept myself together. Last night felt like the last night.
I want to be INFLUENTIAL, to let the wealth of my knowledge flood every aspect of my life. I want my family to see that their sacrifices achieved their version of an “American Dream” that did its best to push them out of the system. I want to BE that dream, breathe it, exude it, and foster it. A life of wealth in all regards of the word to show people that the people from my island are stronger than the oceans surrounding us. We use adversity to our advantage by surging over the waves towards our goals if we have to. Crumbling structures don’t keep us back, they simply provide us an escape from the jail that is the government. When treasure is buried deep, we dig it out and give to our loved ones their fair share. We learned sacrifice early on; my mamá sacrificing herself for me by fattening me up as a baby while her muscles shriveled onto her bones from lack of food. Seventy-six pounds is what she weighed when she had me. Six of those pounds were me so when they told her she made only a small ripple in the river she uprooted the whole Earth to show that she and I were the entire ocean making waves. Our mothers sacrificed their education, our fathers did as well all for a generation that they believed in. Our grandparents did the same. We are children loved with souls as powerful as the universe and spirits made bolder by the santería we practice. We put soul into the world by giving soul. My parents don’t know how to put it in words yet, but I’m MORE than the American Dream. I’m the CUBAN dream.