Poems · poetry · Thoughts · writing

9/10 Showers

The scorching hot water drizzled down my nude body. My sensitive skin would soon be covered in red spots. My mind wasn’t focused on the steam, but on myself. I grabbed the loofa and scrubbed my temporary tattoo off. I watched as small black speckles swirled down the drain. Memories of my childhood came over me. Sitting as far away from the drain because I felt like monsters would grab me. My innocence was so pure. It was thrown down the drain by those monsters I used to be afraid of. I should’ve sat closer to the drain. There are a lot more monsters outside of this bathroom. It’s a really cruel world. I let the water touch my face as the soap starts to run down my nipples. I felt a sudden coldness. I looked outside the window and saw the stars. I saw the unknown. Oblivion. I saw my grandma. I closed the window and bit my lip. “Without you here I am nothing”… Grace Vanderwaal, what a beautiful thing. I thought of my boy. I haven’t seen him for a while. School, work, my business, my mental health, so many barriers between us. I miss him. His soft skin against mine and his warmth. He makes me feel safe in those arms of his. I let go of my lip and let the water run down my back. Goosebumps begin to form on my body. Ever inch of my naked body is now covered in bumps. The same bumps that my boy gives me when he whispers, “I love you” in my ear. My tears race the drops from the shower head. Down my cheeks… Why is there so much hate in this god damn world. A narcissistic leader making a platform of his own image. White and privileged. Anger is now pounding in my arms. I rest my head on the shower wall. Mi raza quiere un futuro. WHY DON’T YOU LEAVE OUR IMMIGRANTS ALONE. I remember seeing a hate group with signs that read, “deport deport deport”. My insides were hotter than the water. I feel so belittled. I want to help. How do I help. I’m little but I have a big voice. How do I help those who are to afraid to speak up? So many emotions are upon me. I turn off the shower. I wrap a towel around my body. I stare at myself in the mirror. Priveldeged. Chicana. Latina. Brown. American. US Citizen. Immigrant parents. Middle child. Strong. Warrior. Leader. Fighter. Protector. I dry myself off and remember an important saying…

They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.

– Mexican Proverbs


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