Sonnets & Meditations

To my warrior seeds

descendants of Xochipilli

my flower princes.

You belong to the sun, stars and moons

skies and heavens.

But I carried your spirits

in my womb

so I felt you belonged to me.

I thought of you day and night

I sang you songs while rubbing my ititl.

I told you stories of your achtontlis and cihtlis.

I consumed maiz y frijoles

arroz con gandules

horchata y platano, those ancient foods.

Because when you joined me in this life

I knew how you would grow and what you needed to survive.

To my two star spirits…

whom I share my heart and fight

it is an honor to see you explore,

pick flowers and make them into crowns,

look under stones

and earth moss for bugs

and ask questions of where we come from.

My gentle

strong

quiet

and adventurous colibris.

To know I had a part in your existence

brings me to my knees in awe.

Because I was chosen to be your nantli.

Dos Colibris

 

 

 

 

 

ca. 2015

I would wrestle an ancient serpent

if it meant I could share with you my offerings

aguacates, coconut soup and your choice of sweet moles.

Would you do anything for me?

I asked, while lifting my chin

and permitting a soft curious gaze.

He told me I reminded him of a scriber

who told stories of eagles and jaguars

he called me his muse.

I want to be close to you

like a hummingbird tasting your nectar

quiero ver como tú, me dijo.

Be in your presence.

How does that make you feel? He said.

Suddenly I heard songs of quetzal birds

and the sound of a Mayan sun

and river waters flowing over washed up añil colored stones

and the dances of my foremothers casting love spells around blazing night fires

I believe now

That I have always been magic…

Ancient Scribe Womyn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Artist Credit, Juana Alicia


04/23/14

Tired of being defined, tired of trying to define words

You can never know me as I do not know myself

I can never know you as you don’t let me

There are fragments of me floating everywhere

There are pieces of you floating where I am not

We’re missing the point, the intersections that help us understand one another

One day we will share space and one day we will catch a glimpse of what we could be

or maybe we won’t

I don’t want to be defined with words, I’m tired of trying to define words

While you worry about definition

I’ll be over here jumping from savanna to savanna spreading my wildfire

I’ll be over here fluttering amongst mariposas, hanging upside down from ancient Ceibas

I’ll be over here extending my branches throughout chain link fences

While you’re over there trying to define who I am

I’ll be over here attempting to understand who I am past the physical eye


12/12/2013

This was writen during a poetry and politics workshop at the Youth Social Justice Forum. They gave us the first thought, I remember…

I remember when my mom would make Sunday morning breakfast. I would watch her make the masa, rolling balls of stretchy flour. I loved the smell. With her hands she would flip them from one mano a otra and place them on the hot comal. I would hover over them with anticipation as they bubbled and cooked. The aroma of cebolla y chile filled the air as I dipped my finger in the ranchera sauce that simmered on the stove next to the tortillas. Next, as usual I would sneak a spoonfool of frijoles into my mouth and jump up and down because they were so hot! My mom would yell “Nicole!” I would laugh as I darted out of the kitchen grabbing a warm finished tortilla on the way out. She doesn’t cook like that anymore. Her hands and legs are frail due to the Diabetes. Now I just wish I would have stayed in the kitchen to help.

 

Mujeres

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


02/2012

These thoughts occupied my mind on the way to a retreat to Bjorklunden, leaving my family for a few days was scary yet embraced.

Woke up to a crescent moon, a sliver of my place in time

Optimistic for the day

Hidden among my ancestral stars who will guide me

I think of my sons, as I leave home

The drum rhythms and chants to Oshun remind me of creation

And all of its stories

I am creating my story

Protected by La Virgen, Oshun & Bastet

Protectors of women and children, I hear their calling

As I travel to the unknown, I see reflections of myself

In the sunrise of Cihuateteo

I smile, my heart is dancing

And I am moved

I smile again, because I am not afraid

Taken while on a night walk along Lake Michigan

Taken while on a night walk along Lake Michigan

One thought on “Sonnets & Meditations

  1. What beautiful words created from memories, and time traveled. You are a piece of me, a profound and passionate woman you have weaved from the fabrics of life. My pride is as hot as the son and as brite as the fresh white snow. My unconditional love will always be, I’m immensely excited to know that I have helped create such a wonderful, caring, talented, and inspiring woman. I gave you wings and showed you how to fly, oh what a journey you have flown thus far. Continue to allow the wind blow beneath your wings for your journey has just begun, your possibilities are endless, the stars are there, never stop reaching for them, never stop creating you, for one day your children will also write about you. Be their teacher, their inspiration, their legend. Tu madre

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