The Seer

A blue-grey day,
semi-soaked leaves whisper
chaotic sounds in the wind.
As I look toward the seer
my husband says, “Go.”
He takes me by the hand;
I find myself standing before the
younger one.
I give her my soul and twenty-five dollars.
For this, she tells me
I am lost and empty.
That God does not dwell in me anymore.

© 2015 Cyndi Piña, All Rights Reserved.

 

My Broken Spanish

I speak a broken Spanish
Cobbled together by my ancestry
Stone by stone until it meets the new world
It is the language birthed on my tongue
And the first I abandoned as,
In my mother’s mind,
English is going to be my savior

I speak a broken Spanish
My words fail me
My tongue betrays me
My mind crucifies me
Muzzled in all I know
Isolated in what I understand as,
In my mother’s mind,
English is going to be my savior

I speak a broken Spanish
Mi abuelita
Mis tías y tíos
No me conocen, deveramente
A veces me siento como
Una mariposa sin alas as,
In my mother’s mind,
English is going to be my savior

I speak a broken Spanish
Remnants of a way back home
Pebbles from a forgotten land
Unearthed and malnourished
A trail with no distinct path
A lineage without its inheritance

© 2015 Cyndi Piña, All Rights Reserved.

Birthed

Penetrating my dreams
Waking me with whispered thoughts
Murmurings, urgent and raw

You begged me
To know you

Letter begets letter
Word begets word
Phrase begets phrase
Revealing yourself
I breathe life into you

Until you are fully formed
Murmurs now musings
Whispers birthed into a yell
Conscious of your naked and frail limbs

Baptized in purity
Drowned by judgement

Pinned down and sprawled open
Crucified on the page
Ink spilling
Until there is nothing left to say

© 2015 Cyndi Piña, All Rights Reserved.