The Lettuce Angels

 

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La Hija de Nadie (No one's Daughter)

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth...

but when He created the daisy 

within the palm of His hand                                            He saw an unborn child in His mind: A poet, My daughter, beloved, sister, made in My image, My bride.

He knew darkness would one day try to devour her

a phase His future creations would one day call “depression.”

She would grow up a worldly child

wander away from her Creator without even knowing it,

she would isolate herself

she would read and write to escape.

 She grew to be a young woman, yearning for a man's attention, as only natural

yet she’d be tested by tribulation 

thought she was being disturbed by or maybe was the devil

She would find her healing in Jesus Christ

She’d suffer heartbreak, wander halls of different hospital wards

She would fight against medications

Yet resign to taking them only to escape the wards

She would fall in love again

 She would sin, then fight temptations

suffered a miscarriage

She looked for God every morning, and for the morning star behind a screen door

She would be blessed with a second pregnancy, with a newborn baby girl

She would dream of writing her story and having her own book in her hands one day.

This girl though unknown to the world now

was formed by He who created the continents, the mountains, the meadows

Created the curves and the details of her body as well,

in her mother's womb, He created her hazel-green eyes,

He traced the outline of her days on earth

and remembered she would one day herself write this poem

and would draw with a black permanent marker

the outskirts of a female - a broken woman - as the body of earth

He knew she’d fear her own musings

and that she'd tear her own drawings through crosses

along with the drawing she had titled after the song her mother sang as a child:

“La Hija de Nadie” by Yolanda del Rio.

Months later when suffering another manic episode, she would

burn the remaining pieces of her intricate art 

to rid herself of so called negative energy and memories

her father helped burn them one night in a pot

her mother consented, as she knew this would help

calm her struggling mind,

and heal a part 

of her wounded soul.

 

UN DIA A LA VEZ

 

Where are we going, why are we going? I don't know. All I know is here I am languishing in the car like an abandoned snail without its shell, we are stuck in traffic but this is not an ambulance; it's my stepdad's white Suzuku. Mom tries to console me from the front seat she goes on to sing the song by Los Tigres del Norte, “Un día a la vez, Dios mío/ es lo que pido de ti/ dáme la fuerza para vivir/ un día a la vez/ Ayer ya pasó, Dios mío/ mañana quizas no vendrá/ dáme la fuerza para vivir/ un día a la vez" It doesn't work. I still remain sad with a heart-wrenching fear deep inside: I feel possessed.

 

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Hell on Earth

Has hell come to Earth, I thought

 

I feel like Jesus is going down to hell again to rescue the souls that belonged to Him, including me. I felt like the whole world was suffering spiritually, and that I especially was being preyed upon by the Enemy of souls for some reason.

I wasn't hungry yet ate as if I had to eat for the poor children of the world, "Eat for your Great-grandmother in Honduras who loves you so much," Mom coaxed me to drink and eat and Horchata and half a hamburger.

I saw a great eagle out there in the arid mountains. This dark eagle was to my left. To my right, I imagined a great white eagle: it was the battle between evil and the Light; I was caught in between.

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BACK DOOR

Waiting for a doctor in the check-up room at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center.

 

My Dad massaged my back for a while, in the check-up room at Harbor because I was tense from hardly ever sleeping. My Dad’s hands soothed me as if he had secret powers. After the massage, my Dad revealed something wrapped up in a white napkin, from his cap with his keys, pen, and cell phone. It was the half of some kind of sandwich. It was for me. It was so good, I ate slowly to not waste it. I told my mom this was the best food I had ever tasted, and really I meant it. My mom remarked to my dad about how much I loved him that even this simple salami with Swiss cheese sandwich was the best thing ever for me.

Finally a doctor came. He asked me questions I could not answer as I was in a daze, so my parents answered for me. As the doctor with nice blue eyes drew blood from my left arm, I hallucinated a lion with wings in my blood and other things, floating beneath my skin. They were testing my blood to see if I had any drugs in my system. I knew I didn't. What I had was on a spiritual level, and not on a tangible one. I can still recall the moment the needle was poked beneath my skin. This pain was nothing compared to the pain I had had to endure on those sleepless paranoid nights back at the apartment on Vernon Street. My muscles were rigid, my neck tight, overall my body was stiff. I literally felt like there were demons inside my bones, ever since that old medicine-woman said, “she has the Devil,” and didn’t let me inside her house through the front door. 

 

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E=MC SQUARED

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DINING AT HARBOR-UCLA MEDICAL CENTER

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AM I THE VIRGIN?

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THE LETTUCE ANGELS

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A letter my Mom wrote to God for me

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A LETTER from my older sister while at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center

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SWEATING COLD

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Roses, red, my mother hated me drawing them

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DIVINA JUSTICIA

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LOS QUIERO MUCHO

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INSIDE ROOM 811

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NIGHTINGALE ELVIS

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HATH-A-RA-HASHARA

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GABRIEL'S SONG

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LEAVING AND BLOOMING

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LAST TRAIN HOME

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The Ice Queen

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Accordion Therapy & FROZEN

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a u t o b i o g r a p h y (anagram)

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EVERYONE HAS A NUMBER

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THIS AWAKENING

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READY TO BE ME

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MY WORST YEAR

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IT WAS A TIME WHEN I WASN'T MYSELF

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WHAT COUNTS

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I WAS THE GIRL WHO WANTED A PHOENIX TATTOO

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RAGGED BEAUTY

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MY FATHER BELIEVES 

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MOTHER AS TEACHER

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SISTER OF POETRY, MOTHER OF LIFE

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i wish no one was ever called "crazy"

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LOS ANGELES CRYING

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~

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