Maria A. Arana

Maria A. Arana is a teacher, writer, and poet. She has published poetry in various journals such as Spectrum, vox poetica, and Altadena Poetry Review. You can find her at http://rainingvoices.blogspot.com and https://twitter.com/m_a_Arana

 


The Wake

Journey through a distant sleep

Everlasting mind in need

Sober from a child in plea

Singing in the wild to flee

In call of wind and

Careful bid-

Again, in distant sleep

 

-Featured in Issue #1 of the Rosette 

Love Letter to Self

it’s hard to listen to the words

and know their truth folds in threes

-unused handkerchief stained with

the blood of the past-

put them aside and listen

to the slow patter of your heart

gaining traction when none existed

in your head

listen to the beauty

you will find once you cut

open your chest and the blue ocean

spills onto the floor

like ice crystals lost in a garden

-the garden is you nurturing it

picking it up and cradling it-

because you chose to listen

it’s hard to listen to these words

and find the truth soothing

like clover honey

traveling down your throat

filling the love growing

and spilling onto the floor

where your ancestors stood

rising up the walls

covering the world with its glow


jolt

I can still smell the urine from last night’s attempt

steam rose to the ceiling as those words hit the roof

your eyes needed to be placed back into their sockets

so young, you said

so young to have this condition

escalated

the tint on the mirror sufficed when you cried yourself to sleep

hugging onto the last remnants of peace you would never find

and I stood beside you

wanting to hold your hand

wanting to brush your hair back

but my hands remained cemented bricks

from my stomach the ashen sound of hope dissipated

the tears left me

and you closed your eyes

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