Edited by Jose Medrano
As members of the latinx community, our voices are often silenced, our words are often erased. Popo Poetas seeks to provide a space for our voices to shine through the art of the written word. The following pieces of creative writing come only from the minds of latinx artists.
Beyond The Horizon
What is beyond the horizon, I ask myself today
What is beyond the horizon and why am I afraid
To seek my own while I stay home
Beyond the horizon are hopes and dreams
Of those who choose to allowed them to fall through the seams
Is that where my dream is
Beyond the Horizon , A place my heart tells me seek
A place where everything seems free
I see the birds fly away to the horizon everyday
I look and dream, but then I see my reality
A reality full of shattered dreams and broken hearts
My heart is there beyond the horizon
A place I will never be
My heart is beyond the horizon
A place of hopes and dream
My hearts is beyond the horizon
A place I Will never be
– J. A. G.
You swish once
You swish twice
You swish a couple of more times
Like mouthwash, you don’t really mind the words in your mouth
But you much rather have it not in and just right out
Now what does that mean?
Well you understand it for the most part
I mean your parents speak it
Your mother breathes it
Your dad eats it
Your sister misses it
The other one knows it
So where does that leave you?
You awkwardly fumble with the sounds and accents
The heat in your ears reminds you of your mother’s spicy food
Your aunts and uncles ask questions but what does this mean?
What does that?
You once understood
Not long ago, a chubby child, much like you in appearance would know
They could easily talk and understand
Very small and clumsy at walking, but no tumbling and falling with the letters
Tears of embarrassment and shame fill your eyes
You once knew
You once understood
So where did it go?
– Sky Mireles
I fly as night falls
silk, midnight, ebony
I am a whole new entity
When darkness enters me
Formless in abstract thoughts
I find myself caught
In a dark robe of what I once fought
mighty ego to diffidence
no vigilance to the difference
a loss of my innocence
– Evana Gomez, IG: @evxna
i found myself
nobody wanted to see what he saw in her. they couldn’t imagine how he felt for her. she was
too difficult to deal with
when she became aware of the mess that she was, she promised herself not to change for anyone who would be ashamed to be around her.
she would strive for perfection even though her hands shaked too much and she could never paint her nails neatly.
she wanted to be what was once desired. no longer the victim.
no longer the outsider.
no longer the person who is talked about but the person who talks and makes an impact.
her own hero because no one was worthy of solving her problems.
it didn’t matter if she perplexed others as long as she stopped wondering who she was and how she wanted to live and what is her purpose.
her own understanding was fulfilling.
– Annalice Sandiero, IG: @chmpgneroom
Piel de canela
Eso es mi verdad
Color tan dulce
Que el mundo niega
Que refleja mis raíces
Que reflejan lo más puro
El pasado es mi presente
Tengo sangre indígena
Eso es mi orgullo
– Ivonne Flores, IG: @lasbrujitaz
Extract from a novel I’m working on, Emma De Arcaute
I used to be an actress, not a very popular one. Not enough Meryl, not enough Audrey… But I was still devoted to my craft. To feel and make other people feel. I used to perform as a widow and I repeated my re-lived sadness everynight like a curse. I was as dumb and innocent as the intentions of my character: always forgetting my mistakes to find myself repeating them again and again. Who would choose such an inescapable destiny?
My intentions were authentic and it didn’t take much time for people to see how much I shined in the dark. It still didn’t take much time for me to dry out. What happens on the inside is that your soul starts to rot, you start carrying an unbearable heavy weight on your chest and your eyes turn into the darkest clouds. You find yourself taking steps, while lifting desperation but it’s going to take years to actually understand what’s happening inside of you. You’re falling apart because your personality was destroyed through training. In adulthood, you’re left with nothing but the most unbearable awareness of humanity. As a little girl I never understood what they meant when they said artists aren’t capable of loving. As far as I’m concerned, I’d never call myself one – in better words I’d be a cheater.
They need to restore their emotions. They aren’t just destroyed by their personal life but mainly because of their work. When you’re young you haven’t wasted all of your love yet. We born as givers and lovers of life. Then, time starts its countdown and you start sharing. In this job the hardest part isn’t using your seasons but to overfill your rations. What you’d give in one time becomes ten times more than it would have been in that first try. Everyone makes their way through solutions… Have you ever become a bee? Because that’s what they do, but don’t tell them. Despite what you may be thinking – no, they don’t transform into working machines, they start wandering among flower fields. Difference is attractive and captivating, especially when you’ve tasted, felt and lived every shade of emotion. While they think they’re looking for one in particular they’re actually becoming the wind of a not-so-surprising storm. There they are: dancing through poppies, craving for something new, asking for a colder breeze on their cheeks. Twisting from flower to flower, because when you don’t have – you steal.