Aideed Medina's Blog (64)

It is a fierce love,

that I see

when I look into her eyes.

I can feel the courage in her heart.

She speaks to me,

from a photograph.

I hear

 the unselfish determination,

 the driving force,

echoing 

 in the voices,

that tell her story.

The story of Zoraida “Ale” Reyes,

activist,

woman,

defender of the persecuted,

began with a declaration:

I am a…

Once,

as I heard a fellow poet,

go on and on

about how much Fresno's existence offended and oppressed him,

about,…

Difficult to write when the fire is

 burning out of control.

Difficult to speak.

I would rather scream,

guttural,

unhinged at the jaw,

mouth agape,

swallowing entire cities whole.

With a knee to the neck,

arms and legs pinned down,

beneath the weight of violence,

 blatant disregard to the value of

a human life,

and criminal abandonment,

the soul of a community

beaten and…

Perfección

Como se desencadenan las ideas,

y se libera de este mal?

Amores son como la fiebre,

cuando uno de los dos quiere mas.

En estas cosas de ternura,

solo es riesgo

la verdad.

Si no te ama con locura,

recuerda,

corazón sabio,

que

no tiene ninguna culpabilidad.

Aquí,

no hay nada que se tenga que perdonar.

Así son los amores,

se mueren o se dan.

No vas a perder un…

At this moment,

my heart exploded into sun flowers.

The tips of my fingers, toes and tongues

 sprouted beautiful  lush greens,

 allowing my words to pour out of vines

 that ripened into swollen squash  ,

 with tender  creamy yellow flesh.

A new bloom with each step forward .

 The fruit ,

settling along the ground I walk on,

 growing out in every direction .

The squash open,

 seeds pour out at my…

This is my mind.

I guard it with my life.

I have spent too many days and nights,

tirelessly sifting through sand,

gathering up threads and pieces ,

to ever

 let it

be lost.

This is my body.

I guard it with my mind.

I have spent too many hours fighting,

 to own it.

I cannot give it away to pain

 or,

 without meditation,

to pleasure,

as though it was…

Yo no creo en fronteras,

Yo no creo en definiciones, ni limitaciones

Mi poder esta en mi corazón

En la belleza que traigo por dentro.

Ser mujer

Es mi bendición

Y no dejare

que me detengan

 por el simple hecho

 que tengo…

Because,

I am fearless,

you call it careless.

I am going to stay

without your caress,

which would at this moment

only

serve to stop my

never ending march

to that some where

I am heading to.

Mi alma se esta abriendo,

mis sueños y mis palabras corriendo ,

como un rio descontrolado.

My voice is  sounding off like brass notes.

I am growing in stature,

sitting in the…

Esta es mi panza.

This is my belly.

It is not shaped like an athlete’s…

There is a cadence,

and

my senses are dancing

to  the delicious

 rhythm

he is playing,

with the swift movement

of the steel

hitting

steel.

From the flame, the smoke and the seed,

comes the harmony.  

His hands, heart and mind are working

 flavor onto the plate.

I can taste the dedication

hidden in the aroma,

savor the concentration

in his brow.

I have watched enough…

Oh…

 he is dignified 

and I am soul searching

in his face.

Siempre estoy buscando

Alguna pista

En esa mirada,

Y cuando  de pronto la encuentro,

bajo mis ojos al instante.

I am rectified

and meekly write

what I cannot hope to comprehend.

 I tilt my head to one side and look again.

I will call it honor,

This elusive quality,

I catch a glimpse of…

Soy solo una mujer,

an unguarded heart

and an untamed mind.

I am quick to drink

from the heaven

I trace in his features,

each time I visit his face.

I create new terrain for my stories as I start

at his eyes and fall deep along the lines of his mouth.

Yo lo miro,

through these tunnel visions,

these myopic views.

I see life

inverted, reflected in his skeptical gaze.

He is only a…

Me llamaste india 

como si fuera la propia palabra 

una cachetada. 

Como si fuera un insulto. 

Y me reí de ti a

carcajadas 

por lo ignorante 

que 

eres. 

Con mucho orgullo soy mestiza. 

Soy mucho más india que la mazorca 

que te da de comer.

¿Dime paisano, en que momento decidió una nación odiarse a si mismos?



Yo nací lejos del 

pueblo 

de mis…

To the dangerous ones,

the shot glasses of 1942,

the thoughts and the shots…

Listen.

Where does he find the time?

Where does he find the soul?

Tugs me along with careless selections of masterful songs

DJ, Músico, mi Maestro.

Here is an instrument for you to play,

beneath the skin,

where music begins,

the sound is mixed,

and

the beats find willing counter parts.

You can record straight into me.

Control the tempo and the bass,

teach me more

about my own rhythmic…

Strawberries. 

Red stained deputy's patrol car ,

victim of a strawberry war, 

traviesa de ojos grandes, 

curls caked in fruit.

" Una buena chinga te van a poner bonita", says the blond blue eyed man with the badge.

He is speaking Spanish, 

and it scares me

more than the knowledge my aunt Guille is going to smack me

for throwing strawberries at her friend's…

What would be

the best distance

between

he and I?

Would it be miles, or inches?

Hours, or days?

When what I want

the stretch

to be,

is

 only seconds and swift.

The shortest distance

between

his lips and mine.

The most desperate

distance

from my

eyes.

How long could it be?

Enough to hear him say

my name,

before I feel…

Mike Rios walks

below the yellow street lamp glow.

White T- shirt,

 black pressed pants.

He is wearing The Uniform.

His hands

are tucked away

in his pockets.

He shuffles his feet from side to side

and looks up,

head…