Ruiseñor

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Childhood fragments curl in

abrazando el día cuando

you first graced the earth.

Ya me acuerdo

your love-cracked voz

cantando un weary lullaby.

Envuelto en slow-coaxed syllables,

the universe shadow hums along,

it’s dappled verde melodía fortalezando

el voz de un creador, siempre

seamed with holes and hope.

El mundo shimmers in surety,

as I feel mis raíces subiendo

los murmullos de mis antepasados

cruzando entre

your nightingale words.

la mano, tender and worn,

rests on my forehead

en la bendición de las madres.

mi alma siempre lleva

part of yours, mamá

y por eso

I am grateful.

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Speak

To my friends, for always listening & freeing me a little more each day

I don’t often speak about being mentally abused, but this is about more than just me. For all those who have suffered in skin or in spirit, no matter what shape your scars take: you are a survivor, I am touched every day by all that you are, and you are never, ever alone.

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consonants cause traffic jams

in the rush

for release

from

their white ridged confines

elbowing aside luckless scowling vowels

& artificially flavored filters

while whispering syllables

hatch an escape plan

over by bitter and sweet

i feel them tumbling around my tongue

an emotional recipe for uncertainty

mixed with the heady brew

of pain/trust/fear

uncaged

trailing meteor tail memories

the words spill out into the

suddenly frozen air

and i find myself

free

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