Main Street (POEM)
A reflection of what can be possible when you start to put yourself first.
One heartbroken spring I found myself running away from home,
hoping to find some flowers and a mirror to relinquish my sorrow.
Earlier that winter, the snowless, bare trees and its gray tint that
seemed to cover virtually everything had found me lost in Main Street
and my body ached to the bruises from my past suitor.
My chest and arms, blue and purple, reminded me of the sunsets
back in Caracas, back when I looked out the window in between
the steel bars and dreamed of the day in which I could finally be free,
back when I walked through Main Street and didn’t feel nearly as
empty, cold, or nostalgic.
As I looked around me, realizing I wasn’t walking over gray
concrete anymore, but brown, dead leaves; a figure in the distance
invited me deeper within the bare oak trees.
I rushed into it, jumping over twigs, trying to reach the queer, puzzling
figure and getting deeper and further into the forest to a point of no return.
As he stopped, I finally got closer and took in the landscape,
strands of gold for hair, his eyes, a reflection of the Caribbean Sea
and his hands, shiny, soft and delicate like silk. He slowly reached for a key and
as he opened the door to an inconspicuous greenhouse,
for the very first time everything seemed to fracture into color, inside, lavender,
jasmine, rose, cacti, and other beings sprawled across
the floor and ceiling, growing in every little crevice.
He reached for the cacti, tightly held my hand and placed a small magenta flower that soon started to extend offshoots on both of our arms and eventually joined us into one being.
I looked at his eyes and when I saw myself in the reflection I said:
“I did it. I’m finally free”.
About the Creator
Jesus Eduardo Lopez Alvarez
This is kind of my personal diary, writing things in times of despair or awe :)
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Manifesto to The White Boys
Within me, there’s a small light of deep resentment. Deep resentment towards myself especially, because doesn’t matter what I do, I don’t seem to fit the beauty standards anywhere in this world. I once dreamed of becoming a model. A model in a world that seems to only want straight, light-hair, fair skin, and sky blue eyes. A model in a world that pushes you to the limit every time and categorizes you as an “alien”, both on paper and in society. Then I decided I couldn’t possibly be a model. I couldn’t keep up with the expectations, however, from the trees above me came a cold breeze, whispering in my ear how beautiful I was because of my “exotic, dark curly hair", brown eyes, and foreign accent. By listening very closely, I realized it too, had assumptions of what I was or would be like. Yes, they firmly believed I was more attractive than they ever expected, but in the end, it was only a matter of being different, new, and not really deemed as beautiful as everything else in the world. I then, found myself in a never-ending forking path, trying to figure out what it was that made me less in the eyes of everybody else. I straightened my hair, I dyed it, I learned to speak like them, I wanted to be them. But the truth is, I didn’t really grow up fishing on the weekends, nor playing football in an extensive backyard. Yes, my family was well-off, but you would’ve seen me climbing up a mango tree rather than watching the “Super Bowl”. And, as I keep traveling and getting to know new cultures, I keep seeing the same patterns I always saw. I am tired of it. No, my name isn’t Cole, and no I don’t have blue or green eyes. Yes, I have curly hair but it isn’t blonde, my vacation spot isn’t Hawai'i and I don’t go to fun European family trips. I used to wish I was like you, but now, now I despise you. I hate the fact that you are deemed "pretty" solely for the fact of wearing long sleeve shirts and Lululemon shorts. I hate the idea that you are the perfect boy because your family is well put. You don’t have to move a finger and can easily fake a perfect life on social media. I hate the way you know you are the standard and thus exploit it. Whenever you look over your surroundings and realize what’s your impact over our society, give me a call, and then, maybe we’ll talk. But being in your position must feel nice, doesn’t it?
By Jesus Eduardo Lopez Alvarez2 years ago in Poets
Comments (1)
<3 holis jesus