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Best Poems Written by Cristal Aguilar

Below are the all-time best Cristal Aguilar poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Cristal Aguilar Poem

Dancing Arrows

There was a time of love beneath plantation trees,
A time where I was young and beautiful and quite attached
to the woman in the mirror,
In fact I was doing just fine carrying her skin, 
Her leather-like skin breathing heavily beneath the Nevada sun,
And there he was….

Then came the certain boy who smelled of rain, and faith, and pine trees, 
And we danced the night away with bare feet and our rhythm was rigid, 
For we were dancing arrows in the night,
and we stood there…
Attempting to escape the iron shells forever covering our metallic bodies.

I thought my life would end when he went away,
And I watched my lover steal the 30 year promise which held so closely 
to my skin.

And I watched him pour fuel across streets before Paris ignited,
I savored each cough as my lungs ate up the smoke and ash,
I could feel him there....

Yes, I could feel him through the smoke.
Goodbye Perry, goodbye Johnny,
Goodbye to all,
In fact, goodbye to me, who danced with Paul.

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The boy who can't feel

Beware the young bastard that was birthed here by sin,
The silver haired boy beneath large piles of bricks...

Beware, beware, the young boy named Cage.
Beware, beware, he can't feel a thing.

He sits there chained down and we won't let him leave,
You see young boys are supposed to be smiling,
Running around town 'till their legs tire from running...
Not telling lies to cover for others,
Not telling lies to clean all their actions.

He asks food and mercy, but we won't let him leave,
He asks food and mercy, but his arms drip with blood.

And the piles of bricks are heavy, but you'll be fine, young man,
Yes, the piles of bricks are heavy, but you're supposed to be numb.

So sit there in silence, quit pretending to cry,
Sit there in silence, those tears are not real, 
Yes, sit there in silence, your mother can't see you,
Sit there in silence, she's not here to save you.

And it was quite frankly funny, when he started to cry,
And it was quite frankly funny, when he asked for his mom.

Pierce and Stab, Cage, why are you crying?
Pierce and Stab, Cage, we can all see through your silver-laced mask...

Beware, beware, the young boy named Cage,
Beware, beware, we know he can't feel...

...And then came the hour when the young boy was heard,
Then came the hour when his scream was too loud,
Too loud to be fake, too loud to mistake
For some sick staged performance but by then it was too late.

And the silence was piercing when we all learned the truth,
And the sun was now glaring once the lies were dissolved.

You see, the boy wasn't lying as he said that our town-world was small,
And he wasn't quite lying as he said that it all felt too much.

You see, he was caged for too long to not learn to crawl
And roll up in a ball, 
To swell up, explode once there was nothing to hold.

Young boys are meant to smile among beaches,
Maybe cry a few times before the others can see them...
Not being caged up to please other people,
Not being caged up to make them feel better.

Details | Cristal Aguilar Poem

I saw hope dance through lightening

An eerie glow swallows up the sun as our men lie wounded,
Brass against iron, loud clanks of armor, and the glorious hymn of victory,
Today we are knights, and our bodies float above the crushing tides of lamentation,
So don’t you look down at me, and remember my name every time you glare,
Because we are knights, and our blood carries honor across the grieving lands.

Thick fog surrounds the grasslands and a loud piercing bell echoes across the sky,
Strong rains patter across Geneva in fury, and the sky has blackened...
I feel a divine presence in the air tonight, because God lit up the sky with lightning,
And He had cast down a legion of rain which sounded to the rhythm of death,
The storm was not a threat, and I did not hide from it,
Because it felt good to encounter a storm that bitter evening, you hear that?
It felt good to see the clouds break and shatter in the form of rain,
It felt good to hear nature scream in the form of violent thunder,
And it felt good to see and know that the grasslands were breaking down with me,
To feel my pain being shared across the plains, to feel understood among the mountains.

Amidst the chaos a light was casted down from me,
A magnificent beam,
And a voice came roaring through the sky, 
In His words I had found consolation,
For He told me, 
“Do not seek vengeance, my son, do not act on hatred,
For everything will be put in its place, 
Yes, I will bring you justice”.

The pounding of my heart softened, it was all clear in that moment,
For He had filled my trembling body with benevolence and a burning sense of hope,
Today I am a knight, but I shall not fight against my fellow men,
Today my blade will pierce through the chest of the damning beast named sorrow,
And I saw hope in the form of lightning, yes, I saw hope dance through the sky,
And it glimmered splendidly,
What form, what grace, and how magnificent its beauty...

Yes, I saw lightning glimmer with hope while the rest remained hidden,
For they saw death while my dreaming eyes remained fixated towards the beauty of its rays.

Details | Cristal Aguilar Poem

Memories of an immigrant

He calls this August
In the morning between trees and metal,
The ground is shaking as he laughs,
He is almost there upon the orange trees over my country,
Down where little speak English,
And my home is upon bright sands between our fingers that 
Pull tomorrow back to the time where mothers are left behind 
Beneath nights of fear and nights of thick walls where people
Apologized constantly, (and forgot how to speak).

We walk through the city where the blood will breathe 
And cover the summer sky,
I watch the highway bring shades of black to days of bright sunlight,
And for a moment I look back as the country is whispering,
Reminding me of the sun upon my head, 
Of the moment when our children began to speak,
The night when we trembled and were afraid.
The night we kept quiet when we wanted to scream.

I stand once again to watch the evening,
And I am thankful upon the city of metal and concrete,
Thankful to have a better wage,
Even when no one holds me,
Yes, I am thankful... 
But it's still not my home.

Details | Cristal Aguilar Poem

Too Late for Wishing

Near the river, where the stones don't listen, a young girl sits near the high ground screaming.

Her throat burns dry while mother's pride dissolves, 
But weeping willows aren't meant to hold…
Wooden skin is meant to pierce and stab, young girl, wooden skin can't hold you.

So hold up your chin, close your eyes, and pretend you're still breathing,
Kick real hard and pretend they can hear you.

Hush hush, young girl, the fairies aren't coming.
Hush hush, young girl, it's too late for wishing.

Your echoed screams may ripple the waters and move crowds of black ravens,
But you're too loud to get help now, so stay still and be quiet,
The gates of iron won't open, no matter how much you beg,
Stay still, young girl, and pretend you're not drowning…

But didn't you know better than to let them pollute you?
And didn't you know better than to make them all hear you?
Don't scream, young girl, don't you know you'll go mute?
Don't scream, young girl, and don't you dare raise your voice…

How dare you ask why you earned those deep markings.
How dare you ask why they can't and won't listen.
How dare you seek love knowing exactly what you are…

Sink towards the river, the fairies aren't coming.
Sink towards the river, it's too late for wishing.

Details | Cristal Aguilar Poem

Falling Stars

The stars are falling,
Gliding across the darkness,
To find a new light.

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Break free from the sun


Hear the faded out groans beneath each grocery store tomato,
Blisters popping out as old, worker hands 
Begin to pick up the pace,
Dirt growing thick, drilling beneath each thick fingernail
As the sun rises above rich tomato fields, casting down 
With great rays of fire,
Glares down at each of the workers and saves them no mercy,
Hours go by through a shared kind of misery,
The sun grows more vengeful
Shouting “keep working hard” and “why don’t you work faster”,
Yes, the sun glares right down at each living worker,
Makes them remember, they can’t go much further…
	
So hide all the shovels and hide all the earth worms, 
The sun child is forming… 
Legs moving wild within the thick womb,
Wrath taking over as dark eyes close tight, fists all hunched up,
But hold elders tightly before they dissolve,
Hold customs tightly before they dissolve,
Get drizzled down on some distant path,
Absorbed beneath the cruel dove-colored sun,
Elders humiliated beneath sharp rays of heat 
For the very last time before drifting off to nothing,
Rising above grounds to then become empty.

You see, the sun child came from a family of field workers,
A large lineage of Mexican poverty spiraling out, spreading its 
Coils towards the next generation, waiting to jump out toward
The new chubby face with shining infant eyes,
Anticipating the pounce toward the new living baby,
But does rain feel all nice when it pierces through 
Decades of dreaming for new hope in silence?
Did it feel nice to leave, break free from the sun,
When it costs years of bleeding, depriving of futures,
To keep yours alive when they didn’t have that option?

Details | Cristal Aguilar Poem

Tecoman, Colima: Year 2006

Wide-faced baby still crossing her legs, 
Shivering inside her own mother’s womb,
Parts staying hidden from the ultrasound’s cold, metal-like screening,
Warm pool of darkness heating up as kicking goes wild, 
Already moving through mother’s quick anger,
Already formed and already asking….
Wanting more time, wanting more time.

Mother’s eyes glow brightly, brown almonds growing wide as I am lifted,
Marveled by the sight of a brand newborn child,
Marveled by the way I squiggle through her arms,
Wanting to run, break through time’s frame,
Move like gazelles while the ground is a clump of hot cement
Buried beneath cold horizons of tar, 
Here comes the sun child, born here in Colima,
Land of marine life and strong lemon trees
But time flies so fast, six months disappear,
It’s now time to leave and they pack up my things, 
We’re off to a new place where workers earn more
But the jobs aren’t much different, 
Just apple trees that need picking
Instead of tomatoes or limes or plantains.

Let’s drive away towards a country up North
Where they say things are better,
But the air will be dry and you won’t see much trees 
Once you arrive there up North,
But just close your eyes, and pretend you belong.
	
So sit tight and hold onto mother’s cold hand
While the car will take care of your small, infant body...
Young one, don’t weep, your father’s still here,
Young one, don’t weep, he’ll stay for three years.