Machete to umbilical cords
Had to cut, cut, cut off the hoard
Of Hurters
Ripping umbilical cords
Leaving to breathe on their own those who confused me with one of their own
Came by for so much sugar I have no cube of my own
Diversity of Sweet
My Give, Give, Give becomes others’ Take, Take, Take
Never deplete
Welcomed into the truth by Torch
Burned and lit up scorched
Three times the fold
Held Up
Energy receivers insatiable never help out
Receivership is not what it’s about
I grew used to being forgotten.
Figured I’d overlook another’s rotten.
Lame.
I become accustomed to carrying all of the planets in the solar system
Upon my shoulders
Couldn’t leave the inhabitants believing they weren’t worth the roll uphill of their boulders
I cannot let this disappointment become a spoiler.
I guess it’s true
Life goes on
And not everyone can come along
Relatives, Friends, Lovers, the list grows on.
These are the lessons no one admits
To teaching
To learning
Beef is a chorus.
I ghost us.
After laying out the corpse for viewing
Your choice to discuss
A mind convinced by truth – Closure, I won’t need some.
You don’t have to say Peace ~~ Peace comes.
Green pastures flowing with acres of life
Umbilical cords buried by the side
Of the road.
Crosses bored
Did I
Hinder another’s growth
Did I
Hinder my own
Could I
Have done more
Should I
Have done less
Then watching the answers become progress.
By the fire smoke showed the times I choked
The times my laughter evoked
That my heart thought she was living in a good time
Takers all along knew the lie
Now that I too view their sight from their point of view, their shoes
On the door is a Closed for Business sign
Betcha I won’t miss that life.
Here’s your knife.
Transactional
Every exchange
Transactional
I believe we are abundant forces
It’s why I never slow down
Yet, by the fire of blood
I must slow down
Ironically, losing weight allowed me to slow down.
Umbilical cords by the tons.
Ironically, adding on weight sped up my time.
Now here is year infinite in this solo life and I have not one source for my cord.
Thankful.
Because I know Home and it’s not in a hoard.
It took a long time to be okay with the outcome of the plays
Learned: I rather be a lone rebel than a loved sucker.
By the fire, crackles groaned
When will you seek to be fed in the same manner as the way you serve in your own home?
I never found myself on the receiving end
Exhausted I say here I am again.
Newborn
No hand out
No expectation declaration
Just cancelling my observations into the lives of random exchanges
Your Independence depends on it
My existence depends on it.
Machete to umbilical cords
A bouquet of lives that must make it on their own
The Mother to 1 Home
A Mother to others is not a throne upon which I wish to bestow any more
For the benefit of the Man and Woman who deserve to make it
On their own.
Feel free to call me wrong
But remember the song
Of this Siren
Is an echo of the Watchers who witnessed it for too long.
Grateful for the fire-tongues who spew truth and hand over the swords.
For these Cuts.
Babies, I Wish You Luck.
Liza Zayas is a lover of writing and dancing and celebrates both as a singer and songwriter performing as Luna del Flor. You can hear her collaborative sounds and experience life through her storytelling. She invites you to dance. Her poetry seeks to initiate dialogue by intentionally expressing consequences of love, lust, ego and self-respect.
