From the Poet:
“I wrote these pieces of art because there is power behind everyone’s story. Maybe you’re aware or haven’t noticed, but you are, in fact, a very powerful and important individual. Share your story. Don’t be ashamed. Through art or through any other form of expression, your story will inspire others.”
Cocking Back Tears
It’s been years since I’ve felt the sensation of flowing streams gently roaming down my cheeks.
It’s been years since the glimmers from tearing-up has shun from my eyes… It’s been years.
I’ve struggled with tears. It’s been near impossible to cry.
I am a man, and men aren’t suppose to cry…
Except if we are indulged with tequila y llorando por una mujer.
And so, I don’t cry… But I want to!
I want for my eyes to shed tears and wash away my guilts and sorrows.
But I just don’t know how… I don’t know how to cry.
I cannot envision myself crying, a natural act of compassion.
Like if a loved one would pass away, I fear I will not feel.
And no matter if I break into tears or don’t feel, I’ll still be judged by tias and tios.
And if tears amerge, I wish for them to not be silenced.
If tears amerge, I wish for them to be free like the blue seas that carry life.
Only if tears would emerge… Only if…
If tears emerge, my throat cocks back, swallows the tears, but my tears fail to fire.
My tears don’t make it past my eyes. My tears are kept inside,
where they die and rise like vapor ceased from the heat that my anger provides.
Only if tears would emerge, my feelings of anger would no longer linger.
The devil’s tail would no longer drag beneath my feet.
Only if I was taught to cry, my life would shine through a different light.
My rhymes would speak through a different mic,
the kind brave enough to cross gendered lines.
