Que nada opaque jamás
la luz que avita en tu alma.
Que nadie quiebre tus sueños,
ni obstaculice tus pasos.
Hasta la semilla más pequeña,
puede romper el pavimento
al crecer, y echar raíces.
No lo olvides.
Eres único. Eres especial.
Y si te lo propones, invencible.
Sólo debes creer en ti,
aunque el resto mire en otra dirección.

Soy el garabato de aquel verso,
que no ha escrito ningún poeta.

Un suspiro inquebrantable,
arrancado de un insomnio agotador.

El as de una baraja,
que desaparece bajo la manga
de un mago callejero,
y reaparece donde primero imagines.

Un hombre travieso
que en el cuerpo de un niño se esconde.

Soy la música que unos excluyen,
y otros prefieren.

Una mina de diamante,
para quien se gane mi cariño.

Soy sable y argumento.
Caída, precipicio y redención.

Soy el sol que se oculta
entre negros nubarrones,
y espera el momento cumbre
para realsarse con brillante luz.

I've always known I am a beautiful person
that all I was doing was hiding behind a facade
of ugliness.

today, on my way to the market
I met a person I knew
but looking at his squinting eyes, I realized
that he didn't know me.
a handshake later
i laughed and he laughed
he joked about the price of the fishes
and I replied, saying "I could buy a fishing net
for half the price of that catfish".
and there in the market, in a barbershop
I cut my hair
down to the scalp
just like his.

coming back I met another person
her skin as fair as the insides of a bread
she joked about my almost bald head
and choking on laughter, I said
"bushy hair equals bushy nightmares".

But the most beautiful thing I did today?
*** sizzling
eyebrows sweating
tongue salivating
I cooked my favorite dish
served myself
and one of my friends
and we ate
facing the hot, afternoon sun.

Don't be like me
don't hide behind a facade.

have you ever drank a river?
stretched your lips over it's banks
and ****** everything —
the fishes,
the canoes,
and the boots
that sunk 5 years ago.

I am so thirsty that if I could stretch my mouth
around this planet
and crunch the glaciers,
swallow the oceans,
and breathe in the clouds —

It would not still be enough.

But see what nature did.
It gave me a small mouth
and a mind that believes
that a cupful
is enough.

I am not a poet.
I write poetry.
Once I proclaim: "I write poetry,"
The expectation for what I write will increase, and the room for me to be just me will decrease.
I will not always construct edgy poems, yes they are thoughts that trickle and are caught in my hands, but there are some times where my words are formed from the desire to create a heart warming feeling, to freeze in time a memory which stained me, to motivate myself to do better or to remember the memory of me doing better.

At times my mind is empty.
Not because I do not think.
But my desire to open up is closed up.

And that's fine,
Because I am not a poet,
I am someone who writes poetry.