F€@® & L0√£

I’m at the age where I realize, 

Nothing, actually (Sublime)
Just say the words, tell me I’ll be okay. 

You don’t have to mean it, it ain’t gotta be true, you’ll never have to be accountable for what comes or goes, 

Just say the words. 

I tell my friend, she of open heart and hospitality, tell me my parenting will get easier, tell me it gets better. 

She says, yes.

 She says, I did it, you will too. 
I tell my son, he of 13 years and internet-trolling, if it’s not true, helpful or necessary, 

Don’t fucking say it. 

He says, okay Dad. 

He says, I understand. 
I tell my wife, she of magical unicornism and poetry-inducing madness, 

I will always give what I have, I will work until I drop, to give us, I say, to give you, 

To provide for you, my girl, wife, dream, goddess, queen, 

My endless frustration

To give you home and hearth and love and food and bandwidth and hot coffee and cold air when it’s hot outside, 

I will give what I am to a job that takes all I have, to earn this place I see, this golden fantasy where you smile and we have a door with a lock, behind which we remember our youth and we expose our eternal truth

She says, wherever. She says, I got you. 

She says, be happy and I will. 

She says, we got this, love. 

We got this love, love, we have our love to rely upon, she says and she shows and sometimes she needs reassurance but,

She knows. 

Tell me, say the words. 

I will say the words. 
Even when I have trouble believing myself. 
You’re going to get through this. 

I’m going to get through this. 

We’re going to be okay. 
We got this. 

💚

Lost

So, my sweet dream

Here we are again.

You know the words I wish I could say, 

They are carved into your heart

As they are burned into my soul

Maybe is such a terrible curse. 

We held each other’s eyes as though we could change the reality, we hoped and knowing the answers never mattered. 

Your sweet smile was a cold fire on that forgotten landscape, clear and simple we prayed, our movements echoed through eternity as we imagined what might have been forever, what could never be one day, that anchor cut loose and we drifted away from our only chance. 

If time had a pen, we would have maps and the journey would always take us home, we would dance in front of bonfires and the chanting mother’s would bless the rebirth of winter with a sacrifice freely offered and accepted by the ancient. 

If, maybe, these ideas are not as hard as truth, these thoughts do not provide a loving touch. 

Here we are, my sparkling sapphire. 

We have limits and rules for our insanity, we have stolen the fire from the mountain and left in its place a key with no lock. 

In uncertainty have these words stripped my skin from bones too old to grow. 

Belief has borrowed flavors, and we taste the memories of what has never come. 

Your love will decode my cypher and you will know my cruelty. I have chosen a road away from our Paradise, you will wait with no name for the return of visions lost in pieces. 

I will secure the gates behind my hands, so that none will know my betrayal. 

I know, and you know. 

Eyes, Skies, Lies


 
It’s okay if you feel like these are just words on a screen, and if that obscures the obscene from your mental regime than I cannot fault your resolve and try to topple your walls, if it’s somethin strange in your neighborhood and you don’t call Ghostbusters than I’m not sure we can really connect. 
So. I see a lowered flag waving from your heart, and I want to help it fly boldly and proudly, to stand true and strong and somehow find light in private imagined darkened rooms, pre-emptively constructed tombs of doubt and despair, to climb up the ladders and fly up the stairs no matter how the stares and the glares might pierce you and demean, your challenges accepted, you are coming clean.
] tell me what you need
And I will provide
When they read of my love for her they look above her but none could ever be supreme to her she is my queen to serve and my life is what she deserves to burn if she wants fire I’m fuel, an uncontested duel of whatever you want and what I’m willing to do, but I would sell my child’s organs for you because my skies are all lies covering a thin disguise and my eyes cannot pry from locked doors and closed minds what truth in my life I should not leave behind.  
i can’t say anything anymore without thinking of how it sounds, 
 
is there a gentle touch inside us all which might propel some form emotional evolution, some type of redistribution of values and ideas which have been seen to be false; perhaps on a cold day all men shiver, and time is a package which never remains undelivered, but the hearts of all creatures are designed with a purpose, to live the next fraction of a second before your life muscles contract, every breath is gone with no guarantee of payback.
At times I think the whole world has gone crazy and at times I know there is no world or any crazy which is crazier than the thought of a placebo effect and we still won’t believe that we are what we perceive…is there any sense to any of these insane pursuits which scuff up our boots and leave us bereft, clinging to the small pieces left from the last time we loved and got broken again. 
someday all the doubts that live in my head will be silenced for good and I will believe what I cannot deny. 
Maybe.

Eulogy for my Childhood by Jesica Nodarse

I bathed in the holy water and drank the kool aid. 

I did it willingly, even excitedly. 

I was a perfect waste of youth.
I was a good kid, not in the “your grandma says you’re good, because she loves you” kind of good,

 but in a way directly affected by my abject fear of disappointing my parents.

 This carried me throughout the first twenty years of my life. I lived in dedication to a god, and devotion to never upsetting my family.

 I didn’t even question it, at least not out loud. I instead found bible texts and church articles that cemented my utter and blind obedience,

 I think even sacrifice can become an addiction.

 Obedience came easy to me and in the same way rebels seek attention by acting out, I found mine by becoming the pastor’s golden daughter. 

I could recite bible texts before I could even read, in fact I clearly remember 

being 3 and reciting psalms chapter 23 

in its entirety

 from memory, 

and even at that age feeling a little guilty

 because the oohs and ahhs of praise 

belonged to god 

and I held them to my chest a bit longer than I should have.

 At that tender age I already had what is termed a ‘trained conscience’  

which is just religious lingo meaning

 you have been indoctrinated enough to believe every single breath you take and release is somehow linked to the big man upstairs.

 At 4 I broke all kinds of records by speaking in front of the congregation 

and the looks of admiration in my parent eyes made every decision for me

 for many years to come.

 After that it all becomes a blur of faith and devotion, fervent prayers that became litany, and sacrifices that turned to resentment, 

highlighted with moments I was hailed prodigious and made to feel important.  
I understand, they did every single thing with the best of intentions, every single controlling sentence was with the hope of giving me salvation and eternity. 

When I wasn’t allowed to play with others kids they rationalized it as protection 

and when I wasn’t allowed to join clubs or be part of any secular activity

 they saw it as vigilance for my spirituality. 
Still, somewhere between being the perfect daughter and the perfect Christian … 

I forgot to be a kid,

 and no one offered a reminder.

Jesica Nodarse is a Cuban-born immigrant living in Florida, with her husband and children. A powerful writer and poet, an intense and driven woman, Jesica offers her unique perspective in today’s world and empowers her friends and colleagues with passion and grace.

Jesica can be found on Facebook at

 facebook.com/heathenwordsmith 

and on Instagram at 

https://www.instagram.com/j.nodarse/