What Is Love If Not

By Jose Carillo Campuzano

What is love if not the scent of a home?

If not the touch of your fingertips on my skin?

What’s love if not the sight of your eyes, to show me you cared

About every bruise, every argument, and every moment

We shared.

What is love if not the strength of a woman?

If not the image of black curls?

Or skin enriched with melanin?

What is love if not the sound of accents?

For being a woman of color here means to wear perseverance and determination like clothes.

Clothes, which get tattered and torn from dog whistles or slurs thrown by

Politicians, officers, coworkers, and even friends you’ve known.

With a genetic trait of yours, I was born with hardened skin.

I was given two languages to express my love to you.

I was given a home filled with women who allowed me to cry.

I was given the knowledge of my history, how there were Queens who looked like you.

I was given your culture.

I was given you.

Guilt and Gratitude

By Tristan Fackler

Dishes, constant dishes. Coming home to a dirty sink neglected from the night before.

Pans of macaroni, golden crusty yellow, a child’s dinner, a familiar meal.

Cooking never felt like a chore, and maybe that’s why I never expected anyone to do it for me.

Dishes though, dishes were a curse, a constant reminder of my burden.

A day of school, bullied by children, judged by adults. Coming home to a dirty sink neglected from the night before.

I scramble to clean it, still wearing my shoes in the kitchen.

My Mother works to put food in the pantry, too exhausted to eat any herself.

Macaroni, ramen, bread. Familiar, dry, crusty meals, cooked by a child for a child’s dinner.

A day of labor, sacrificing her youth to guarantee my future. Gone in the morning to do it again.

I see her only in passing, always in uniform, as she heads straight to bed.

A loving greeting, wrought with exhaustion, aching, fatigue.

A short window, a brief interaction. I am helpless to help her.

But she does not come home to a dirty sink neglected from the night before.

Dishes, constant dishes.

Matriarch

By Gionny Colocho

You showed me the wrong from the right, my left from right
Whenever I’m in the dark you’s my light,
I know money was always tight,
but still gave me everything u could, every day n every night,
Carrying all our problems like Noah’s arc, Matriarch got might,
You dropped out of school after having me so young, But back you went, from the problems you didn’t run, got that shit done,
Matriarch got fight,
I miss you holdin n huggin me so tight,
I come to you now with a mustache n beard, but U know I’m still your baby, right?
Remember used to write on the walls just to check my height,
Anxiety in my head going crazy, but lady look me in my eyes n says every lil thing gon be alright,
Like that song that we used to sing, right?
Then like Rihanna, momma yous shining bright,
Anyone that speak bad bout you, it’s on sight,
But sweet lady tells me to spread the love not to fight,
So thank you momma for showing me it’s okay even when it wasn’t right,
When I pray I know you on the otherside,
GOD must’ve been talking to u on the side, cuz u know to text me when things ain’t feelin right,
And I’m not writing these words its more like my heart is speaking n it’s tryna say some like,

Mom, you my higher power, my pretty pink flower, sweet with the right amount of sour, you give me the power of your heart, n its the only one I sought, she my inspiration, she my Matriarch

You know you are in my heart,
My inspiration, my Matriarch,
N I swear the only reason we was broke,
Cuz we had a late start,
All our life, we were rejected,
That’s why we going passed projected,
All my life, you protected,
All your love, you injected,
That’s why Ima take this second,
To thank you for steering me in the right direction,
raising me at your own discretion,
teaching me all of those lessons,
Being raised by you, was truly a blessing,
Now it’s my turn to spread your message,
Taught me to do more, we don’t know what less is,
And nothing beats our car rides, listening to music n messes of conversations,
Enjoying life, singing , “AHORA QUIEN, si no soy yo, me miro y lloro en el espejo y me siento estupido, illogico”,
Like we don’t got any expectations,
Going to school during the time of sanitation,
I know when I first left, you hated the separation,
I hated it too, it decreased my mentation,
But don’t worry momma, like I said to you when u left me at the station,
No te preocupes, I’m ready cuz of your preparation,
And I know you love to make me happy, n that makes you happy, but making you happy makes me happy n that’s the best gratification,
So on my part there’s no more hesitation,
This from me, to you momma, that’s why when they read it, they like “woah”, cuz this isn’t their rhythmic syncopation,
Ima show em we ain’t bad, like decriminalization,
From your belief i feel like I can touch the consolations,
I’m just tryna say that when you believe n tell me you love me it’s the best sensation,
More men need Matriarchs like you so we can end this fuck men representation,
Telling u I’m grateful and I love you is something I’ll never forget to mention,
So ima end this by taking a rest on the last rhyme n keeping it simple cuz I’m not good with dictation,
Momma, U easily, gods most beautiful creation.

From,
Gionny <3