Crossing the Threshold

“This poem is about the anxieties experienced as an immigrant and person of color. I”m sure others have also had similar experiences. As I reflected on the events triggered by racism in this country and the impacts of those events on me, as a minority, many of my own experiences came to the surface, including the ones reflected here.”

Traveling is a freedom, a privilege.

Adventures and new discoveries usually await.

Excitement and happiness lead the way.

But then I have to cross the threshold of belonging.

And that shakes me and brings doubts to my disdain.

Stay close to my husband.

Our eyes connect.

Keep your distance.

Within grasp, just in case.

A feeling of uneasiness grows stronger.

There is fear.

Anxiety.

As my heart races faster my pulse keeping pace.

Wondering if everything will be okay.

Do I belong in their side? Will they welcome me back?

Do they look at me different?

Do they want to know more?

Don’t make eye contact.

Stay quiet.

It’s better that way.

As I cross the threshold,

I look back at my soulmate.

Please keep me safe.

Don’t lose sight of me.

I might need your help,

I might need you to come by.

I might need you to speak for me.

I might need you to tell them that I belong in your arms.

Maybe one day I’ll get used to it?

I have your back, my sweetheart

Just calm down.

I would never let anything happen to you.

I see your eyes on me. I’m here.

I see you.

I would never let anything happen to you.

I’ll protect you and everything will be okay, my love.

Maybe one day I will feel that I belong…

Where I belong

After so many expectations thinking that coming to Puerto Rico was the key to the puzzle of my soul, my expectations were proven wrong. I thought I will discover the answers to my questions of belonging…but I was wrong.

The last couple of years as a Hispanic woman working under the Trump administration have been emotionally draining. I have felt that I didn’t belong in the United States. I felt that I needed to connect with my roots in Puerto Rico and be embraced by its warmth.

But those expectations were not met. Not even close…

I have been looking to belong in all the wrong places. I don’t belong in Puerto Rico or in the United States. How strange? I’m between places, like a vagabond or orphan.

After some thought, a possible answer emerged in front of me and suddenly something became clear. Feelings of relief and peace rushed into my heart as I discovered a truth that was always present but somehow hidden from sight due to all the emotional distress of wanting to belong to a place. The identity struggle have confused my soul journey. I realize that I don’t belong to a place or a location. I don’t belong to Puerto Rico or the United States. My soul belongs to my soulmate, my sweetheart, my loving husband.

It doesn’t matter where I’m physically. As long as I’m in my husband’s arms, I’m at home. That is where I belong and where I want to be, forever!

Between Two Places

My beautiful Puerto Rico… somehow I left you behind. I thought I would feel like coming home during this trip. Instead I feel like a transitory visitor, passing by and knowing that I will leave again. And today, as I leave my mom behind, I long not for going back but for moving forward with my life someplace else.

I had so many expectations this year as I was returning to Puerto Rico for Christmas. I was longing for a place to welcome and cradle my coqui soul. Instead I felt distant like a stranger. How could it be possible for me to feel that I don’t belong here in Puerto Rico?

Maybe these feelings are not real, but a defense mechanism to protect myself from the painful days that I endured in Puerto Rico trying to help my elderly uncle and dealing with Puerto Rico’s archaic and irrational business systems. It was traumatizing,

Leaving town now, I feel relieved and free.