the broken days
we all dread them.
on an oversalted afternoon,
the wheel spins + another
weighs anchor in an unlucky soul.
sometimes we just borrow them
then step right back into the sun
others hang in our heart,
like Hamlet’s crooked star,
turning every bend in the road
into a promise, then a question,
and finally, a shrug.
your humanity is what makes you beautiful
your mortality is what lets you feel so fiercely
your conscience can still change the world
don’t let nature’s pencil trace
bitter furrowed eyebrows + wasted moments
upon age softened skin
instead, simply revel in the fact that
you are loved
Dedicated to my Tía, and the almost absurd amount of strong, courageous, powerful, kind and wonderful women in my life. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t be who I am without you!