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Ayana Rivera Poem
From learning the abc’s, to count from 1 to 3 your favorite uncle singing the twelve days of Christmas, the particular line a partridge in a pear tree. Innocent thoughts, learning how to walk, things that were formed serious when taught how to talk. How did I get here? A girl who does not know the definition of how to live, countless made up schedules which I have never made a habit, some choices made that were oh, so rapid. The fight with my mind, the countless cars that have passed by, knowing someday one of them will be mine. Growing up is so hard why can’t it go in back to the way we used to be, singing abruptly not caring what was in front of me just learning new laughs and what’s ahead of me. My inner-child some times takes me for a spin gives me a kick for my breath, I would pay anything to go back to the way we used to be. The same uncle that used to hold you so tight, is now struggling to gain control of his marriage and soon to be divorced wife. The picture, facade of the wrong and the right, suddenly comes to light. I wish it can go back to the way we used to be. Looking at my mom like a goddess and a warrior, that the men she dated were always the sweetest. The way she drank when I couldn’t see it, the innocent smile I’d give when she jokes but now I sit and groan. I loan for that same feeling of secure and demeaning, the affirmation of self clarity. My life back then was seen as not such rarity, I was eager to grow up in a second, not only from self acceptance to the world but to get back at the hitting and pulling of the hair that was torn off me by an evil witch in disguise. As the perfect stable wife that can cook nice, but in reality she was a beast. Taken 7yrs of my child hood at the cost of my innocence and my inspiration to be small again. To the way we used to be I apologise for what we had to see but we had no choice. The innocent, defenseless, and vulnerable unaware native accent It brings me back and has me thinking about my choice. The choice of whether or not to accept the life given. Again, I was still a kid but to my real feelings it wouldn’t differ. If I could go back to the way we used to be I would stand my ground regardless of the situation. Tell my step-mom it’s wasn’t right, tell my mom to stop putting on a fight, tell my uncle to get a hold of himself before he loves anyone else, tell my ‘step brother there’s more to life then to do the unspoken, tell my dad thank you for not letting me see anything he had done to protect my view of him as a father, tell my mom to stop rushing into a relationship yearning for the unconditional love tell her to stop her addiction or find a way too because she had no idea how it was affecting me, tell her to stop inviting my other uncle into my life single handingly.. tell my sister to not feel guilty for not knowing what was going on. I wish we can learn to push aside our differences and overcome the violent silence and memorable arguments, I wish we could create a stable enviroment for growth and unconditional love of non-ironment. I wish we can grow together, learn together, see together, talk together for more than 5minutes without it creating an argument, I wish that we could live in peace. I wish I can go back to the way we used to be. We as in me. 7 going on 16.
Copyright © ayana rivera | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Ayana Rivera Poem
To have dodged a bullet is heard by me as a clear soft symphony, it reminds me that all is a dramatized sigh of relief whether stressed, sad, annoyed, mad or worried, it all ends the same with the word that is second most heard than your name; “it is all going to be okay” whether in your head or said. To have dodged a bullet is the best kind of relief, either thought of or heard. Being told you have dodged a bullet is like someone whole willingly taking out the knife stabbed in your back you thought you could never remove until sane. To be told you have dodged a bullet is a moment of silence out of the few you rarely experience, the soft ringing in your ear, confused thoughts on how you got here, it is like the destination you so desired. To the hopeless butterflies flying away from my stomach, my terrible luck and the universe I relied too much on for comfort, I apologize. Still experiencing the comfort of the silence, life is still not over yet. With life being so unfortunate of course there's more stories to the questions I push into the back of my mind due to fear . To be loved is to be seen, and how am I capable of experiencing love if what they try to seek frightens me. Love is a beautiful thing, it's something that truly excites me. But so is my health and my love for individuality. Obsession turns into disgust,and dishonesty gives it life, whether playing into it or saying it. To the lies that are now dead. To the boy dressed nice holding the gun of a masked persona, I couldn't see the shades of heartbreak on his coat. Who would pay attention when being held at gunpoint? He missed his shot to a 3rd degree, to have dodged a bullet has given me a clear view, breathing in a fresh start away from the boy I thought I knew. “To have dodged a bullet” I can say it a million times and not think about that one horrible time. To have dodged a bullet is within itself one of the most beautiful lines i've been told that has healed my mental heath. Whether it was a lie to save my sanity, I will never forget the person who said it to me.
Side note: this poem, you could say, healed me while writing it, this was my closure. This is what kept me going. The reason as to why I wrote this happened in real time. I will never forget the girl who said this to me in a time of need. We weren't all that close either. Thank you.
Copyright © ayana rivera | Year Posted 2024
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