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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
Growing up poor and Chicano in the barrio
parents working in the fields is all we know.
They tell us to go to school and learn all we can,
get educated and create a life master plan.
Knowledge and determination will be our shields
from low paying, back breaking work in the fields.
School breaks and summer vacations weren’t fun
our parents would take us to work out in the sun;
there was no shade or sunscreen to be had
just working in the dirt rows behind mom and dad.
I remember the embarrassment and shame
if in class, my parents’ occupation I had to name.
Only other fieldworkers’ kids understood
how it felt growing up poor in the hood.
One house shared by a dozen family members;
three bedrooms, one bathroom; ask mom she remembers.
It was tough living in a crowded house
shared with so much familia and the occasional mouse.
Yet, there are many fond memories;
the fun we had, all of the stories.
Riding our bikes or playing ball in the street;
Walking to the corner house for a snow cone treat;
Hot summer days cooling off in the irrigation ditch;
Scary stories of our neighbor, a mean old witch;
Shopping for school clothes at the thrift store;
Watching morning cartoons as we lay on the floor;
Homemade frijoles, arroz y tortillas
made with love by mom, nana and tias.
Our parents couldn’t give us the best things;
no fancy clothes or shoes, no diamond rings.
What we received was more precious than gold,
in a store it couldn’t be bought or sold.
Mom and dad taught us to have faith in God above.
They gave us the greatest gift of all, unconditional LOVE!
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2013
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
I remember my teen years and the attitude I had.
I always said, “I’ll never let a guy hit me or treat me bad.”
The first time it happened, the first time I was hit;
I couldn’t believe he did that to me, it was bullshit.
I felt immediate pain, disrespected, and degraded;
feeling like my mind, heart and soul had been invaded
with anger, tears, and genuine disbelief,
quickly turning to confusion, terror, and grief.
I remember crying out “Why did you hit me?”
He was drunk and so angry, he couldn’t see
the tears streaming down my face and the pain so deep.
He just ignored me and went to the bedroom to sleep.
I stayed up that night replaying that moment
when he first beat me, like a drum…an instrument.
That was the beginning of an abusive relationship
in which I received bumps, bruises and a busted lip.
The shame I felt with a black eye and bruised cheek;
calling in sick to work for two days that week.
Returning to work with makeup caked on the bruise;
coworkers saw through the mask, they saw abuse.
I was only 21 with a secret I couldn’t tell.
My life with my boyfriend was a living hell.
What happened to that strong Chicana who didn’t take shit?
Where did she go? Why was she getting hit?
He made me question the woman I had become.
Maybe I did deserve to be battered, maybe I was scum.
I thought if I learned to cook better meals,
stopped wearing sexy clothes and high heels,
if I looked down when we went out,
maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t shout.
I feared his anger and rage
it was too much for a young woman my age.
How could I allow this monster to abuse me verbally and physically?
I had allowed him to strip away my pride, he controlled me totally.
I knew not how to escape from my new horrible life.
I was raised with a loving family, now all I knew was strife.
Even when I was seven months pregnant with our first child,
I was still being abused; a punch in the belly, that was mild.
The verbal abuse and hurtful names pained me even more.
I was called ugly, fat, slut, *****, and whore.
Each name and every slap or punch tore away at my heart.
I needed to leave, take my baby and go, but I didn’t know where to start.
The shame of being a battered woman was too much to handle.
If I confided in my family or friends, it would be a huge scandal.
How could I tell them that the strong confident girl was long gone.
I had become some guy’s doormat to be thrown and walked on.
I had lost my joy, my laugh and my smile.
I had become an abused woman suffering silently, yet in denial.
I thought I deserved the abuse; I didn’t make him happy, it was my fault.
Maybe if I lost weight and worked two jobs the abuse would come to a halt.
That didn’t work; he still beat me and cussed me out.
I knew he didn’t love me, there was no doubt.
I began to believe everything he told me…
He said I was disgusting, fat, and ugly.
He said no other man would ever want me and my children.
He told me I could never be attractive to any men.
I believed his bull*****and all of his bold faced lies.
My smile became a frown; gone was the sparkle in my eyes.
Fast forward my life, 26 years after the nightmare began.
Divorced for four years and living a happy life without that man.
I wish I’d known then, all that I now know.
Never settle for a man who’s abusive and love he doesn’t show.
If he doesn’t care and respect you from the start,
don’t allow that man any place in your heart.
Life goes on, the bruises fade, but the memories never do.
You can get away and find happiness by learning to love YOU!
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2013
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
What is the right measure of love?
Love will surely fade if there’s not enough.
Come on too strong and fast,
it most certainly will not last.
If you try too hard to hold on tight,
love will be fleeting, just like the night;
pushing your loved one out of sight
causing you to wonder why love took flight.
It slipped right through your grasping hand,
as if you were trying to squeeze grains of sand.
When love knocks at the door of your heart,
don’t answer in such a hurry; be smart.
Take your time to find out who’s there
because rushing it might give them a scare.
Be patient when seeking true love;
If it’s real, it’s sent from heaven above.
You will know when it happens to you,
you’ll feel it in your heart, through and through.
From experience I learned, take things slow;
cultivate new love, be patient and let love grow.
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2013
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
So many words left unsaid,
imprisoned deep inside my head.
Do you know what your abuse did?
Snatched the joy from your kids
tampering with their future lives,
slicing their hearts with verbal knives.
Leaving wounded souls
and hearts with holes.
No child deserves so much pain
causing their joy to drain
from their eyes in the form of tears
because you instilled so many fears.
They feared your evil stares,
your nostril flares,
your verbal assault,
and your fatherhood default.
I’m the only parent who is there
and for them I will always care.
You’re a sorry excuse for a dad,
I’m the only loving parent they’ve had.
You’re always angry, bitter, and pissed,
you act as if your children don’t exist.
Our oldest son battles demons in his head,
because of you; to him, you are dead.
So many times he’s talked to me in tears
asking me why you hate him but love your beers.
Just remember when you’re old and lonely
you’ll long for your children, if only
you had treated them with love and care,
you’d be certain they’d always be there
to love you and care for you,
but you didn’t and they’ll remember too.
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2013
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
Dear son, I feel your pain, I feel your hurt
your so-called father treats you like dirt.
He’s abused you and caused you so much pain
it breaks my heart, I feel insane
knowing it’s my fault he’s your dad.
I wish I’d left him long ago, maybe if I had,
I could’ve saved you pain and heartache.
I should’ve been stronger for your sake.
Please forgive me for failing to protect you.
Forgive me son, for taking his abuse too.
I should’ve stood up to that hate-filled man,
if only I knew then that I can…
I CAN make it on my own, I CAN
protect my kids from that evil man.
You were my first born and brought me so much joy.
You had the cutest smile as a little boy.
I’m so sorry your dad turned your smile to a frown,
he stole your joy, beat you and put you down.
I’ve tried to make up for all the abuse,
but at times I feel like it’s just no use.
That man has damaged you beyond repair.
Seeing you so hurt, I cry to the Lord in despair,
“Lord, please help my son, take away the pain,
let him see that he has so much to gain
if he just gives his broken heart to You.
You will heal it and make it brand new.”
Son, you will have brighter days
I’m here for you and love you always.
God is with us to get us through
the hard times and heartache too.
All I ask is for your forgiveness
and you will see your life God will bless.
He will give you peace of mind,
joy in your heart you will find.
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2013
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
A river of tears down my cheeks they roll
all in an effort to clear my mind and cleanse my soul.
Thoughts of my sister and the fight she is in;
the faith, strength, and determination she needs to win.
I hear it in her voice, the struggle to stay strong;
she tries so hard to act like nothing is wrong.
I know her too well, the inflection, it’s there in her voice,
she tries not to cry and then she has no choice.
No longer can she choke back her tears;
she breaks down crying and tells me her fears.
Her hair is falling out in clumps with every touch.
The locks and curls in her hands are just too much.
She’s been through it before, yet wasn’t prepared.
Losing her hair and going bald doesn’t make her scared.
Looking sickly and weak is what she fears most.
She doesn’t want to be stared at like she’s a ghost.
She’s not looking for pity or to be treated different;
She knows people will see she has cancer and pass judgment,
staring at her, whispering, strangers feeling sorry for her.
Instead, my sister wants to inspire others to be stronger.
She sometimes feels her family doesn’t understand,
they all want her to feel comfortable and
walk around the house with her baldness exposed.
She’s been feeling like their minds are somewhat closed.
They don’t understand how sad she is feeling;
It’s not about her bald head she’d be revealing,
it is about feeling it’s her right to cover her head.
She doesn’t want to worry or scare her kids is what she said.
Crying and sobbing on the phone, asking me if it’s okay
because she thinks she’s being selfish to feel that way.
I tell my sister that she’s the most unselfish person I know
and it’s HER decision to not let her bald head show.
She’s doing it to shield her family and close friends.
Her love and deep concern for us never ends.
If I had one ounce of her strength and determination,
I would be a much better woman; she’s my inspiration.
She’s fighting her second battle in the war for her life,
but she’s going to win the war against cancer because her faith is rife!
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2015
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
Stella, you are my sister and my friend, a woman so strong.
You’re friendly, funny and with soul, you sing a song.
A beautiful woman, great mom and loving grandmother;
for my sister, I wouldn’t want any other.
I feel I have been so blessed
with a sister who is the best.
I can tell you my secrets, no matter how absurd.
You never judge me; you just giggle and say “awkward”.
You were there with me when I had my first child.
You helped me stay calm and keep my temper mild.
I remember you said, “When you push, it won’t hurt.”
After my first push, “You damn liar, it still hurts,” I did blurt.
I can’t help but smile and laugh at so many memories we share.
I know deep in my heart, when we’re both old with grey hair,
we’ll still be laughing and finding humor in each day,
even if it’s just making fun of girls who obsess over our brother Ray.
God has given you a special gift of creating beauty out of blank canvas.
With each paint brush stroke, you bring to life a picture that’s first class.
Sister, I’m so proud of all you do
and the bright future in store for you.
You’ve been fighting such a tough battle; you keep the faith and never quit.
There’s no doubt that you will beat breast cancer and conquer it.
You’re strong, so courageous and I look up to you; you inspire me.
I want to touch people’s hearts and souls as you have touched many.
If I can touch the heart of just one person, maybe two,
I will feel my life wasn’t wasted; I want to be a blessing like you.
My sister, my best friend, you’re always there to encourage me.
You make me want to be a better woman and be all I can be:
Super mom, successful career woman and poet extraordinaire.
Your faith in my abilities, the way you show you care,
helps me believe that I can do anything and I can do it all;
no matter how big my dreams are or how small.
Thank you for your unconditional love.
You are truly a blessing from heaven above.
Love you today and always.
For you I give God all the praise!
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2013
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
It’s only been a little over 4 months since you’ve been gone;
That’s 126 days or 3,024 hours or 181,440 minutes…much too long.
I miss you sister, each and every day.
I wish I could hear you laugh and the things you’d say.
The way you’d say “awkwaaarrrd” and “chit”;
Miss your friendship, your love, your humor…all of it.
You were always just a call or text away.
I miss the long talks we had nearly every day.
I miss your “Lucy” stories and all the laughter;
You would do something funny and tell me after.
Sister, you were my best friend and always there.
So much has transpired, things I wish with you I could share.
I want to tell you about our latest Vegas trip and the show,
Purple Reign, you would have loved it, I know.
I told the Prince impersonator that you were Prince’s #1 fan.
I told him you went to heaven; he kissed my cheek, what a compassionate man;
He said he was so sorry, hugged me and said, “Sweetie, God bless you”.
I felt your presence and knew you were up there smiling too.
Every time I hear a Prince song, I say, “Hi, sis”.
I know you’re living in heaven, in eternal bliss.
Knowing you’re with our Lord and Savior in Heaven,
Makes my grief and sadness feel like someday it may lessen.
Memories of you, sis, are etched forever in my heart and mind.
A sister and best friend like you, I will never find.
You were unique and one of a kind.
You left so many friends and loved ones behind.
We miss you and wish you were still here.
Yet, having faith in our Lord makes it clear
That one day we will see you again.
It wasn’t goodbye, instead it was “until we see you then,
In Heaven,” you’ll be there to greet us at the pearly gate.
When God calls me home, I won’t hesitate.
Until then, I’ll miss you sister, each and every single day.
Please watch over your loved ones, I ask and to God I pray.
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2016
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
My heart hurts to see my girls leave.
I feel a loss, though temporary, I still grieve.
I believe in and trust the Lord
for He has cut the umbilical cord.
My girls must with their own eyes see
if their dad will love them...finally.
He has broken their hearts too many times;
yet in their eyes, he can do no crimes.
They believe that this time is different;
hoping he’ll finally be a caring parent.
They have longed for a father’s love
the way we’re loved by God above.
They crave a dad’s love that’s unconditional;
no longer willing to accept love that is artificial.
They want to know that he’ll always be there;
to support them emotionally and always care.
I can only pray and ask God to touch their dad’s heart;
give them a father with a new beginning and fresh start.
I’m not angry that my daughters are gone
I just miss them, but God keeps me strong.
He has a plan for each of my girls’ life.
He won’t let their dad hurt them or cause them strife.
I believe God will bring my girls back home
because I love them and won’t let them roam.
Until they return, I will worry not;
I choose to let go and let God.
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2013
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Cynthia Ozuna Poem
Before divorce, there was love and constant companionship;
Raising kids and doing housework was a partnership.
Groceries were bought, bills paid, including a house note.
Finances were no problem, two incomes kept things afloat.
Extra money left over for going out and having fun.
After divorce, your paycheck is the only one.
Making ends meet from paycheck to paycheck is stressing.
Realizing some things are no longer affordable is depressing.
No longer able to afford the house you worked so hard to buy;
it’s such a difficult pill to swallow causing you to breakdown and cry.
You feel so hopeless and lost;
experiencing what divorce cost.
Divorce changes everything…your ex, your kids, your residence.
Suddenly you are thrust into a life of independence.
No longer are you part of a couple, you are now a single.
Showing up alone to family events makes it difficult to mingle.
People stare at you, “The Divorced One”.
So-called family and friends, you they will now shun;
acting as if they don’t know you, talking about you or ignoring you.
That’s when you find out who loves you and is a friend who is true.
Divorce changes so much of your life.
No longer are you a husband or a wife.
Now you are doing things all alone;
raising children or grandkids on your own.
Life gets easier as time goes by.
You get back your smile and sparkle in your eye.
It may take months, maybe years,
but one day, you’ll forget all the tears.
You’ll be happy, laughing and feel like singing,
as you reflect…Divorce changes everything.
Copyright © Cynthia Ozuna | Year Posted 2013
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