I see black…

I see black when I look at eyes fighting back tears of sadness. Eyes so hollowed by the pain, hopelessness, that it lacks its luster and there’s nothing behind it. But yet those same eyes seems to carry strength and tenderness to see the light in the darkness that has overshadowed the world.

I see black in hard faces, faces which reflect the endurance it takes to endure the world we live in today. I see perseverance in those faces which reflects the strength it took to persevere and to continue to persevere each day. But that same hard face hardened by life and it’s trial, reflects respect, love and tenderness, one that reminds you of the familiarity of home no matter how alien.

I see black in strong bodies, bodies that to some present a threat, yet these same bodies have defied the odds, these same bodies have endure and overcome the unimaginable and unthinkable; bodies so powerful that ignite fear in those whose weakness makes them tremble with fear and seek to attack and devour by their cowardice. I see black in mighty warrior-like bodies, strong standing like a tree not wavered by the storm.

I see black in weathered hands, hands whose roughness shows the sign of hard work and battle and having to forcibly say goodbye to loved ones due to the actions of the wicked. I see black in hands that show a boundless ability to give love and nurture, even to its oppressors. Hands that fight daily to escape violence and embrace peace.

I see black in shoulders that have tired of carrying the burden of hate, oppression, prejudice and racism. Shoulders that have endured unthinkable pain. Shoulders strong built with courage and might.

I see black in scarred backs. Backs that have carried the load of centuries of pain, pain caused by fear, ignorance and intimidation because these same backs are those of King’s and queens, these same backs no matter how hard the whip that tore through its skin causing red rivers did not falter.

I see black in dirty long traveled feet. Feet that show the signs of force change. Feet that have walked through the valleys of hell yet have persevered. Feet that have fought battles and lead to freedom; mighty warrior feet’s.

I see black in all that is strength, endurance, perseverance, love, and unwavering faith and hope. I see black in all that is beauty and greatness. I see black.

I want to live for you…

As I lay gone, numb and incoherent; unable to defer from reality between a dream or reality. As I lay unable to write these words, one thing inside me rings true, is that I am madly in love with you.

I am I love with that mischievous smile, that sparkle in your eyes that gives me strength even in moments of weakness, you remain true, I love you beyond words, beyond life, my sweet boy.

You breathe life in me even when I want to cave in and fall apart, there’s no pretense in what I feel for you; you surpass all challenges brought to surface. I must fight for you.

I must fight to go on for you. I love you beyond words could ever describe. I love you more than I love myself; I am in awe of you.

You are the air I breathe, the beat that makes my heart goe on. Even when I’m numb I find the strength to fight for you. I’m sorry if I ever let you down by my weakness, the pain is too strong.

As I fade away in my sorrows, I fight like hell for you, because you are my life, the air I breathe, my whole existence, I never wished to imagine a life without you. You’re smile and laughter keeps me alive forever in the flesh and spirit.

I cry for you

I cry for you in silent lonely nights, I cry for you when I least expect it. I grief your loss still, after all these years it feels as if you were gone yesterday. I don’t know how to cope, heal nor move on from this endless emptiness and pain that tears me apart.

I cry for you in moments were I feel defeated both as woman and a mother. I cry for you when I seek companionship, understanding and the unconditional love only a mother can offer.

I cry silently screaming on the inside to the to of my lungs, I choke in tears not knowing how to feel; numbness overcomes me. I cry for you because I need you now as much as I needed you then.

Madre Naturaleza

Madre naturaleza, for so long you have bear our weight on your back, for so long you’ve endured our lack of appreciation; recklessly depleting all the nurture you provide us with.
Madre naturaleza, we’ve disregarded your importance and how valuable you are to our survival. It is not until the last tree is cut that we will not now that we cannot eat nor breathe money.
It is not until you’re fed up with our pertinence that we will learn to appreciate all that you have sacrificed, tolerated and endured in order to provide for us.
Madre naturaleza, madre to whom I redeem reverence and gratitude, please heal and reach us, help us see and learn from our transgressions towards you. Only then may we have a fighting chance, only then may we live in harmony as one.


Women warriors, the vessel of life we are. We carry the burden of the world on our shoulders, left to pick up the slack alone to raise our children; we do it with grace, love and dedication beyond measure.

Mother’s, we smile when we want to fall on our knees and let the tears flow. Each day we pick up the broken pieces made of our selves because we can’t afford to be broken, because if we fall our children fall, so we keep pushing through the physical, emotional and spiritual exhaustion.

Mother’s, masters of turning water into wine, we make everything out of nothing. Each day we face the uncertainty of the possibility of the ground under our feet, the roof above our head crumbling.

Without question we keep on, wearing our brave mask each passing day not letting the world see that we are weary, that we feel hopeless, that we are scared. Scared of what tomorrow might bring, scared that we might not be strong enough to make it.

Mother’s, fighters, who give selflessly through their empty cup gladly because we love. Mother’s who worry nonstop, who pick them self up each time they fall despite our knees shaking, despite lacking the strength to do so.

Beautiful beyond measure mother’s are, for their beauty is beyond physical. It is our strength, our love, our selflessness, our fight that defines our beauty, it is the essence of who we are.

We give without expecting, we do not wait for the other parent to do for us to do. We breathe life, hope, love, security into our children when we have nothing left; for they are our strength, our reason to wake up each day and keep fighting. Women warriors mother’s are.

On tripping mode

At times I repress from writing, I find it sorrowful since I’ve yet found a happy story to write about; yes I am alive, still breathing, healthy, I have a job, clothes on my back, food on my plate and a roof above my head. No matter how difficult these things are to retain, I am grateful for them.

Yet, I find myself in a forever tripping mode and even when I finally manage to fall, rather than falling forwards, it feels like I seem to tilt more backwards. Struggling to find happiness and gratitude in the blessings I currently have no matter how little these seems to me due to the struggle and both physical, mental exhaustion.

For I find myself tired of living in the sidelines watching everyone around me reach their happy ending or at completion of the marathon called life; applauding for them although sincere, yet painful to be left behind.

I guess I yearn to reach a point we’re struggling, asking for help and accepting charity just for the sake of my child is a thing of the past; single parenting has left me broken, empty, joyless, bitter, spiritually and emotionally depleted, filled with no healthy coping mechanisms.

Loving another human being so much means a greater sacrifice beyond what I could have ever envisioned; the meaning of it takes a village has never rung so true, yet I’m a cast away, ostracized from a village. Yearning for one from afar, unreachable.

On forever tripping mode I find myself, unable to stand on stable grounds despite my efforts to not allow my current circumstances define me, swallow me whole. I remind myself of the strength it took to get here and the strength it takes to daily remain afloat, yet here I remain unbalanced fighting to break out of this simulation called life, stuck on tripping mode.

Can one make it as a single mother?

This journey has been long and tired. A road filled with bumps, holes, thorns… each passing day I grow more tired, filling my void with vices; at times drinking to the point were I no longer find the numbness I seek.

In this journey I’ve made so many mistakes, ones I cannot forgive myself for; filled with anger which is misdirected, despair, anxiety, fear, stress and the list goes on.

My heart breaks for my child to have me as a mother, one that has grown spiritually and emotionally broken, going through the motion each day aimless, zombie like.

The constant worries about food, being able to keep the roof above our heads, pay the bills, simply make ends meet week by week, month by month is slowly killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on, I often pray for time to fly by so that this beautiful soul who is fearfully and wonderfully made can grow to an age of more independence so that I can catch my breath; I’m exhausted.

I feel like I live in constant tripping mode where I can never fully gain balance to get back up all the hundred times I’ve fallen. How long can I hold on I ask myself daily. I often feel that perhaps adoption is a better option to provide my child with a better chance.

Yet I shake those thoughts and think to myself that we will make it through the storm together, thoughts in which I lack confidence in due to our circumstances. I often find myself praying for death since it feels like the only escape, the only solution to forever end my misery and numb this endless pain.

How do one find joy as a struggling single parent? How does one survive? I can’t keep doing this alone, I am weak, tired and hopeless. Fighting each day to push through. I find no joy in life and the daily tasks feel cumbersome, breathing, living feels cumbersome.

I wish I could get a tiny glimpse into the future that would give me hope, but despite praying, wishing for signs, I find my search empty. I lack the strength to be able cry, my well has run dry.

I think of the countless single parents who have made it through the end of their journey and are able to look back and recount their stories with a tone of victory in their voice. I questions how the hell did they make it?! Right here, right now this feel like an impossible task to accomplish.

I find myself in the same deep hole every week, every month, struggling to survive and bearing this burden alone, no one to talk to, no shoulder to lean-cry on. I am so sick and tired of being strong, of putting my brave mask on and smiling at the world when deep down I’m falling apart.

Will I make it through this journey that feels impossible and never ending? will I too be able to look back and recount my story with the same sense of victory and sureness In my voice I hear those who once walked my path speak with now? I’d love to find out, therefore, I must keep fighting, pushing each long passing day.