Meet Me Between the Lines
The most important things to me have always been written before it reaches who it is meant to, but nothing haunts me more than the words I’ve held onto when silence seemed safer than speaking my truth. When it has mattered most, I have kept it close, tending to my vulnerability as if it were some secret that could kill if exposed. And I suppose the truth could kill if it were meant to do just that. But I wonder why, just as often as I return to the times when I began to forfeit the freedom of my expression for the comfort and convenience of those who were meant to protect it.
As a child, silence was the only way I knew how to protect myself in the midst of conflict which there always seemed to be, and when I was not, I became the mediator, caught in between the emotional turmoil and dysfunction of those around me who struggled to meet my sensitivity with care and accountability. I grew skeptical and learned to fear the possibility of rejection and abandonment despite my need to be human and imperfect. I learned how to present a more suitable and acceptable version of myself that catered to the perception and expectations of those around me, hoping to keep the peace and yet, repressing the parts of me that needed to be heard and held in the heart of my suffering. I learned to anticipate the needs of everyone around me before I could express mine, but my childhood was no fantasy I couldn’t make believe in order to survive.
Despite my reservations and perhaps because of it, I lived in my imagination. The possibility of a thing was never lost on me and the art of storytelling became an outlet for me to spell it into fruition. I began writing when I was 8 years old and it became a positive obsession that not only encouraged me to listen to my voice but to honor my expression and awareness as a whole; and through my evolving awareness of the world, I turned to the spirit of words that nurtured the spirit of me. But there was still a lot for me to learn and release when it came to expressing myself and communicating my needs.
Those lessons often emerged through my relationships which has always reflected my sense of self and what I stood for in the face of injustice. I am a soldier of love and I am not ashamed of it. It has guided me through grief and allowed me to make peace with those that have come and gone, but I’ve realized despite my skepticism and reluctance to let anyone in, my connections would only be as fulfilling as my ability to show up fully, and that ultimately led me back to me where the truth has often killed the fear-based narratives that have kept me in resistance.
So, I could dwell on all the times that I have frozen in fear and betrayed myself by suppressing the truth when I longed to be understood, or I could listen to everything I have ever wanted to say and become the version of me who embraces her vulnerability through new timelines I am writing myself into. Timelines where I am allowed to be tender and powerful. Where I can honor the journey of getting free and resist the urgency of hyper-productivity in a world that is hustling through tragic times. I have survived enough to know how resilient I am, and how brave I’ve been despite the betrayal and self-sacrifice. I know what I am capable of, especially when I am challenged, and that has never stopped me from imposing my will to love and live freely. I owe it to that little girl in me, to my healing and creativity, to my lineage and the writers, poets, artists, and freedom fighters who paved the way for me to walk upright and preserve my dignity. I owe it to myself to trust my dreams, to trust that there is a message meant for me to give and receive.
Poetry is one of the many places I’ve gone to meet myself between the lines or behind a lens that captures and expands my imagination of what is possible when we embrace our humanity and liberate our creativity. There are no limits to where poetry can take us and I trust that what resonates will gravitate and inspire purpose towards the changes we are destined to make. For me, that begins here, capturing my journey as an artist, storyteller, healer, and human being. In that breath, Portals to Poetry is not just a brand or a platform for me and my musings. It is part of my story and one that will continue to unfold as I continue to dream.