i invited an old friend for coffee today
i was about fifteen minutes late
and
she was about twenty
i called her up, but she forgot to answer
she told me she was practicing a YouTube tutorial
that she will never post
her skin was fresh and bare
picked raw at the sight
bulls eye across her forehead
what is plain to see for change and a face wash
taking a sip of my black coffee
and her frappuccino
I offered her my half-eaten coffee cake
she pushed it away and typed in her calories
she tells me she would never inhale
and sip the poison of pressure
i say more like pleasure
we looked at similarly colored eyes
we both sat in silence
she glances down at her phone to see that plans fell through again
with foes guarded by tight pants
she’ll have people to tell her stories about
if her cards play out right
i almost recognize her from the tiny jewelry box dancer
twirling delusion
she assures me that she is too wild, and friends will take another course
i hope she always dances
I’m envious of the girl sitting in front of me
both are sipping from an overpriced cup of coffee
the colors are brighter through her eyes
music seemed light until the music died
i’m only twenty-two
and she is only thirteen

There was a dream I saw you in,
Telling me to be cool, don’t let the devil win .
Where I am I’m good, you can let me go.
Where I am it’s peace, something we din’t know.
Where I am, I’m not confused or mad anymore.
Where I am, they can’t hate me for being great…. You know?
Where I am, I eat good like we do on a Thursdaynight.
I wish you could be here with me but you have to keep fighting your fight.
You have to keep going for all those babies who need you in their life.
You have to stay strong to keep our parents together through this flight.
Patience is what you’ll need to grow.
Your biggest flaw is not listening and since I have to say it again this shows,
Where I am, I’m good big sis, you can let me go.

Thank you for giving me a safe space to exist, even when there were unsafe people around me.
Thank you for having the strength and willpower of a thousand swords, cutting down any obstacle—or person—that stood in our way.
Thank you for screaming so loud you liberated the souls of our ancestors.
Thank you for tenderly massaging my bruised and battered body when no one else would stand by our side.
Thank you for nourishing me with the love that comes from the belly of the Great Mother Earth.
Thank you for using your healing hands to create works of art that speak the truth of our soul.
Thank you for never giving up on life, even when life seemed to give up on you.
Thank you for wrapping me in warmth when there wasn’t a roof over our head.
Thank you for laughing so joyfully it shifted the frequency of the world.
Thank you for never turning your back on others, because you understand the power of healing and community.
Thank you for believing in love, even when your heart was broken.
Thank you for crying when our body was ready to release.
Thank you for laying your head on a pillow, even when the dreams were sometimes worse than reality.
Thank you for speaking kind words when our mind was telling cruel stories.
Thank you for walking away from those who harmed you—and never looking back.
Thank you for always seeing the potential in me to be better, to do better—for our entire family line.
Thank you for trusting in a power greater than ourselves, so we could surrender into a softer life.
Thank you for learning to receive blessings of love and prosperity—because we simply deserve them.
Thank you for being a voice for the ancestors, so they could finally tell their families they love them.
Thank you for courageously facing the legal system to teach the world that the power of the people will ALWAYS overcome the power of the oppressor.
Thank you for singing sweet songs of kindness and generosity—expecting nothing in return.
Thank you for allowing us the space to make mistakes and try again.
Thank you for always, simply, being there.

“For Every Mama”

I ain’t forgot the hands that held me,
Through storm clouds, broke nights, and empty bellies.
To the woman who birthed me, through pain and pride,
You gave me life, even when the world ain’t give you a guide.

And to the mamas who stepped in when mine couldn’t stand—
You ain’t share my blood, but you reached out your hand.
You fed me truth, served strength with no disguise,
Taught me how to rise, even when hope dies.

To the aunties, godmamas, them sisters who saw me—
Who showed up when the world tried to flaw me.
You ain’t need a title, you just showed love,
Taught me faith, how to fight, how to rise above.

Whether you nursed me, raised me, or prayed from afar,
You left fingerprints on the map of who I are.
So this for you—the tired, the tender, the tough—
Who gave when it hurt, who loved me enough.

You are the rhythm in the song of my name,
The calm in my chaos, the light in my flame.
I carry your lessons in everything I do—
This ain’t just Mother’s Day, every day’s for you.

IMAGE: MY MOM IN THE MIDDLE. MY AUNT ON THE LEFT AND ME ON THE RIGHT

This wound that I have within
Is one that only makes sense to me
This wound may or may not be fixed
And if it is
I can’t tell you when
I can tell you
It was given to me
As a kid
I of course did not know of such
So all I did was push it off
Years would go by
Days even slipped by
Until one day
I got hit like a drive by
Hit with words
Hit with reality
Hit with heaviness that ended up
Opening that old unsure wound
The mother wound

Dear Unsealers,

It’s the second Sunday in May.

For a good part of the world, it’s Mother’s Day.

This day can bring up all sorts of emotions. From joy, to sadness and longing. It’s okay to feel all the emotions.

I want to wish my mom, Lauren’s mom and all the mom’s in The Unsealed, a Happy Mother’s Day! I hope it’s a good day.

And now, for a poem marking the day:

On the second Sunday of May
We honor all of the mothers

Mothers-to-be, grandmothers. My friends who are moms.
Aunts, stepmothers, new moms, and pet moms
All motherly figures. Mi mamá

With all the love and grace
For those who have difficulty celebrating this day
And the mothers who are no longer with us

As mothers are the backbone
Of our lives and the world itself

I wouldn’t be who I am if not for my mom
Tenacious, spirited, and kind
I can’t be grateful enough for her

Mothers need to be honored.
On this day, and every day

From me to you, from NYC to the world…
Happy Mother’s Day!

Its the glow that speaks to me.
There was a time this woman
Did not know what that glow was.
Never spoke of such.
Dark clouds.
Black self esteem.
Sabotaging dreams.
Those consumed her days.
Her soul.
Her heart.
This glow that now radiates
Over her body puts the mind at ease.
The body at rest.
The heart in safe mode.
Glowing heart.
Radiating mind.
Healthy body.
All for the little girl
Who did not know what that glow was.

I am not Palestinian.
But I watched the sky collapse through a screen—
a child’s name turned into ash
before the world ever learned to pronounce it.

I don’t speak for them.
I listen.
To lullabies drowned by sirens,
to the hush after impact,
to a silence that roars louder than any flag.

They don’t need my voice.
They need my volume.
So I turned comfort into confrontation,
ink into artillery,
and every poem into a siren that never shuts off.

I was mid-bite,
wrapped in safety,
when the news showed fathers holding dust
where their daughters used to sleep.
I choked on privilege.
Felt rage boil beneath my ribs.

You ask where I stand?
Not neutral—
because neutrality is just cowardice with a clean face.
I chose the ones who bury their children
and still find a way to pray.
I chose the ones
the world keeps trying to silence.

This is not charity.
It’s reckoning.
Because silence is comfort.
And comfort, when others die, is betrayal.

So from a distance,
I send fists full of reverence.
Love with its sleeves rolled.
Truth with no filter, no leash, no apology.

I won’t be the poet
who rhymed for praise
while Palestine screamed in the background.
I’ll be the one who built a stage from my spine,
so their stories could echo louder than mine ever could.

I am not Palestinian.
But I saw.
And now—
the world will too.

I shape, I form, I break.

I learn that the colors I show

need to be changed.

My habits need rearranged.

I mold, I bend, I snap.

All this pressure makes me restless, I think

I need a nap.

I crush under the rock of self hatred I’ve made.

But look at all I’ve gained….

It’s not enough, I need more

I need to be more

Do more

Pile high

And higher

And even higher

Until

And once again, I fade into the darkness.

I may never come out of this emptiness.

Everything feels so impossible today.

And just like it was never there, you look at me and it all fades away.

She’s not a duck
Stop feeding her breadcrumbs.
Give her the food she deserves.
Connection. Communication.
Give her the snacks she craves.
Honesty. Respect. Love.
Give her the desserts she fantasizes.
Intimacy. Intelligence. Stability.
She’s a one in a million soul
With so much potential.
So much aspiration.
So much love.
If only you weren’t addicted to carbs!

In the quiet of the world, I never sought,
But found a softness in you, like a tender thought.

Not in the making, not in the plan—
But in the way you hold me, just as I am.
Like a warm blanket, a gentle embrace,
Where time slows down and hearts find their pace.

Not a house to build, but a feeling to keep,
In the quiet of your love, I fall deep.
It’s the brush of a cheek, the softest kiss,
A quiet promise of eternal bliss.
With every touch, I am made whole,
You are the home that fills my soul.
In you, I’ve found a place to rest,
A love that swaddles me— even when it’s not at it’s best.

Not a journey of seeking, but falling true,
I have found softness in you.

In the warmth of a love that’s tender and kind.
Together we’ve found, not a place, but a way—
A soft, sweet home, where I hope to always stay.

Invite the unsavory versions of you to
the table, angry, bitter, resentful; pour
them tea and settle their queries.

Give each of them grace, they did what
they could with what they knew.

& now that you know what you do, no
longer invite those women to the table;
they no longer serve you.

I have shared all of my parts with you
I have disassembled myself
Piece by piece
My unity, compassion, empathy, sympathy
My sanity
All harvested for your amour propre

I thank you for releasing me
I would have followed you to hell
And yet —
Without sharing my best parts of me with you
I suddenly feel so alive

Do everything you
Feel like is gonna be,
A good time.
Take a chance, don’t worry
About what’s About
To happen next.
Ride the vibe
Chill through the day
Wild’N at night.
Be~U~Til~Full
Because we’re all
BEAUTIFUL!

As I sit on this backyard swing feeling the satisfying Arizona Spring breeze on my face,
I’m confronted by the little girl who loved swings.
Found joy from the schools swings.
Who found safety from the big brown wooden swing at her grandmother’s.
I’m confronted by the little girl
who wished for clarity
while pumping her little feet as fast as she could.
Who wished for love
while gripping the metal handles tightly.
Leaving her tiny palms as red as a tomato.
Who yearned for acceptance
while matching the speed from the other swings.

As I sit on this backyard swing,
I let that little girl know
It’s okay to feel every emotion
While pumping those tiny feet.
While gripping the handlebars so tightly.
While racing for the acceptance from that next swing over.
It’s okay!
I also let her know
she’s okay to let that tight grip go.
I let her know
She doesn’t have to have to pump fast anymore.
I got her.
I let her know
she’s finally accepted by the one person
Who will never let her go.

As I sit on this backyard swing,
I’m no longer confronted by the little girl
Yet, confronted with peace.
With understanding.
With love.
I’m confronted with the best version of myself!

As a child, we crave small talk.
Let’s us be heard for a brief moment.
Until we’re quickly silenced by,
“Go find something to do.”

As an adult, we crave deep conversations.
Small talk annoys us.
We want to know one another on a deeper level.
Time is a valuable thing.
Small talk takes too much of it.

As a child, we ask the most silliest childish questions.
“Why’s the sky blue?”

As adults, we ask the impossible questions.
The cut throat get to know you on a deeper more intimate level questions.
“What has been your most humbling experience?”

As children, we crave small talk.
Adults, we want the impossible.