palabras

Undefined random pointless circles of scrambles of palabras (words) roamed through my head fighting for words of my own identity,
Palabras, yes words,
I’m a Latina fighting constantly finding the words that stick, the words I spit, combining all wit
To finally click, so HIT IT:
Yes, a breath-collaboration.
And that was the unity I felt that day, the hot one, laying on green listening to the blue skies above speak unity
Union square that was the location that clearly made sense.

I sat just watching lovers, loners, dealers, musicians of all races come together to smile with their eyes squinted just slightly to block the sun
The same sun we take advantage of,
on those hot days.
The fresh henna ink on my shoulder put everything into perspective that simple Tuesday,
That birds are the symbol of freedom,
Able to fly aimlessly for release,
On shoulders, the canvases of my body,
those photographs and yes, in the the sky too.

I am Nabila Betances, daughter of a strong single mother who refuses to let people undermine the abilities of her ability to raise those two crazy children
Yes, with attitudes, Nabila and Marcel.
There is no weakness anymore, the tears of no father are over,
We are not alone-only a triangle,
The three of us we will be.

My self identity was distorted,
Constantly struggling from the inside out—the internal battle,
Where pain was used as ammunition and love was used to combat it
The warriors living in every heartbeat fought long hard hours non-stop to cease this love,
The enemy.
Even at rest, the fight existed.
Those moments I fell asleep with worries lingering this complex brain that owned me could not be counted,
Simply putting it in numbers would be-just too simple.

And that was the problem,
I am Nabila Betances,
Simply complex,
A lover of love,
A warrior of peace,
A word contortionist,
An art guru,
A sensitive individual,
Who cries when necessary.

Nothing lasts forever and all wars end,
The enemy ended up winning leaving Nabila with no pain,
Much gain.
Fearless and united with the parts of her that never seemed to connect.
Why? You ask.
Because she could.
I did.