Dear Mom,

These flowers are a symbol of how YOU have been AND WILL CONTINUE to be SUNLIGHT for ME!

YOU ARE MY WATER, KEEPING ME BLOSSOMING,

Giving ME a PEP TALK when my motivation dwindles, AND EVEN THOUGH I would like the ARGUMENTS /YELLING to WHITTLE away, I KNOW the ROOT cause STEMS FROM LOVE!

MOM, YOU ARE ALWAYS THERE, ROOTING ME ON, SEEING the IMPACT I can PLANT BEFORE ME!!

THANK YOU FOR BEING YOU! LOVE YOU!!

Many many, MANY MORE!

Jakey!

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

In rememberance of my best friend/cousin, Amber Niccole. It’s her birthday month. This is my way of celebrating. Her favorite color was purple, hence the title.

💜💜💜

I saw you yesterday with that purple car.
I told you to stay behind me for a while.
I saw you last night in my dreams
We were back to being kids again
Sitting on that wooden backyard swing.
I saw you today with that purple flower.
I’m not a flower expert
But it did smell like you.
I asked you to sit with me in the sun
And sway with me
To the beat of the song
you’d keep on repeat for fun.
I see you in every day surroundings
Making it hard for me
To keep my composure
During these outings.
I tell you thank you
For the visit.
For the company.
For our day to be together completely
Will of course take place.
Yet until then,
Let’s just continue sitting
Thru these purple days with grace.

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.

There are two special moments that I experienced that helped change my mindset. Both happened in the state of California, but on different trips. The first trip I ever made to California was for my highschool graduation, the other was to visit some family I haven’t seen in years. Both trips happened within one month though, but before I tell you about those trips, I have to give a bit of a backstory for you to really understand why these moments were so special for me.

Before I had made any of those trips, I was a mess. It was during my senior year of highschool. I was only a few months in the year when my life went through some major developments, and I didn’t know how to handle them. My mom had gotten in a relationship, and let’s just say it wasn’t a good one. They moved too fast, and before I knew it, he and his kids were basically living in our tiny apartment. My life was turned upside down. My home was my safe place, my comfort. Now I didn’t have that anymore. They even put the responsibility of taking care of his kids on me. I already had my other two siblings to comfort during this time. I had to do all that, plus try and finish my senior year so I could even graduate. It was a lot for me. I felt overwhelmed and tired. I didn’t know it yet, but I was pushing myself to my breaking point. When I did try to explain these feelings to my mother, she turned a cold shoulder to them. Saying I was being ‘dramatic’ and being a ‘brat’. When I would cry to her about how I felt, she would say I’m being sensitive. She didn’t say it, but her actions made me feel that whenever I wanted to cry or express my feelings I was being weak. Strong people don’t cry. If you cry, then your weak. If it’s too much for you then your not strong enough. You can’t cry. You can’t express your feelings. You can’t. This was my mindset back then.

Fast forward to my graduation trip in June, that’s when I reached my limit. I didn’t know it yet, but that was when I couldn’t be strong anymore. I couldn’t keep a brave face. That weekend I broke down. Tears and all. All the way to my tia’s (aunt) house I cried. I cried while my dad held my hand while he was driving, trying his best to comfort me. He held my hand all the way to his sister’s house. It must’ve been difficult for him to drive that long way with only one hand. I’m grateful he did though. When I got to my tia’s house, I went to the restroom to gather myself together, to put on my strong suit of armor and act like everything was ok. I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it anymore. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried, telling my sister that it was all my fault over and over again. My tia found me crying in the bathroom. She took me to her room and then my tio (uncle) came in. I was crying still, my hands in my face. This is where the moment happened. He came up and wrapped one arm around me, brought me to his side, and kissed the top of my head. That’s it. That’s all he did. But I couldn’t believe he did that. I haven’t seen him in years, since I was a baby. He felt comfortable enough with me to kiss the top of my head like that? Really? I was shocked. Surprised that he did that.

The second moment happened when I went down there the second time, wanting desperately to escape my toxic household and responsibilities. I stayed a week at my tia’s house and during my stay there she wanted to make it as much fun as she could. She got my cousin and I tickets to go to the amusement park. I had so much fun with her. We were gone the whole day, and didn’t get back until midnight, almost 1. The next day, I slept in until ll, tired from my day before. My tia came in the room where I was staying and said we were gonna go to the outlet mall. I would have been up for it if I wasn’t such an introvert and needed 3 days to recover from a big day out. I just agreed with her, but inside I was dying. I was so grateful that she was doing this though. Later on, my cousin came into the room and said that her mom changed her mind and I wasn’t gonna go to the outlet mall today, but I was going tomorrow. I was grateful for this, but she then said that her mom wanted her to take me somewhere, like bowling or something. I could tell in my cousin’s eyes that she was tired too, and didn’t feel like going anywhere. She had mentioned that she had just started her period, and her mom was pressuring her to take me someplace fun. I was grateful that I even got to come here. I didn’t care where I went, or if I had to stay in this house for a day. I was just happy I was away from all of the chaos back at home. I told her this, saying she didn’t need to take me anywhere, that I was grateful for just being here. I told her she didn’t need to feel bad. She was on her period. I completely understood. I never want to do anything when I’m on my period. Just sleep. This was where the second moment happened. She looked at me for a second. Then she said, “I don’t know why but I always feel like everyone hates me.” Her eyes were glistening with tears and she layed down on the bed next to me. I told her not to feel that way, and I was ok with just staying in and watching a movie. She looked at me with a grateful smile, eyes still watery, and she reached for my hand. I instinctively grabbed it, and she have me a firm but gentle squeeze. I don’t remember if I squeezed back, if I did it was probably only slightly, but this moment stayed with me. I couldn’t believe she was crying in front of me. Showing her raw and unfiltered emotions. Being vulnerable like that in front of me. How could she do that? How could she feel safe enough to do that with me? How? Those were the questions I asked myself in my head.

Fast forward to present me. The me who is writing this right now, I think I understand why those moments impacted me so much. I was used to never showing my feelings. I used to never crying because if I did then I was weak. I was used to keeping it all inside. I didn’t want to cause trouble or make things harder for my mom. I wanted to be a good daughter. I wanted to help my mother in anyway I could have and make her life easier. I did do that, but at the cost of myself. My feelings. My sanity. I put everyone else first but myself. I neglected my feelings and my needs. I didn’t love me like I loved everyone else. These moments taught me that it’s ok to feel. It’s ok to cry, to be vurelable with someone. To feel your emotions and welcome them with open arms, not pushing them away or burying them deep down within yourself. Just because you feel, you cry, it doesn’t mean you are weak. It doesn’t mean you’re not strong. It’s being on the ground, screaming your lungs out, and still deciding to get up and move forward. That’s real strength. You break down and fall, but still choosing to carry on, broken pieces and all. That’s real strength. I still struggle with this sometimes. I catch myself falling back to my old ways, and I have to remind myself that it’s ok to feel. I still don’t fully have the expressing feelings or vulnerability down yet. I’m still learning to embrace everything I just said. But when I need to cry, I try to let myself have that moment. Or even when I’m angry, I try to feel that anger. I try to understand why I’m feeling it. All this is new to me. I’m still trying to figure it out. But I’m glad I’m trying to do better and change from my old way of thinking. It’s hard for me though, trying to change my old behavior. But I’m grateful to my family in California. I’m especially grateful for my dad. I’m grateful for all of them for helping me realize the damage my old way of thinking was causing me, even though some of them didn’t even know they were helping me.

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.

The young lil girl who fought to wear glasses
Yet loved to help put the butter
In the mixing bowl for those chocolate chip cookies, wrote a book.
The young lil girls hero wrote a book.

* 3 word prompt: Book. Butter. Glasses. *