All posts by Alkisa

Fill Me Up!

Your look. The ones that I have noticed. The ones I long for.

Your words. The ones that have kissed my ears. The ones I long to hear.

Your touch. The one that made my skin rise. Leaving an addiction.

Your taste. The one that filled my palette and never left me hungry.

Your scent. The one that let’s me know you were once here, leaving me with desire.

My book is published!

www.amazon.com/dp/B07MHG2XXW/ref=cm_sw_r_oth_api_i_LX3YCbDJFZHDC

I am excited to share this great news with you. My book is published. “Raising Maria A in Spanglish” is now available for you to read. (Click on the Amazon link above) Wow! It is published. I have been going through all kinds of emotions about it. It’s my first novel and I must admit I have been very nervous about publishing it. Like anyone would be about their creation, I was and still am a nervous of the readers reviews. It’s like a parent listening to someone speak about their baby. We all want our babies to be loved. I took this leap of faith through the encouragement of my family and friends to finally do it! I hope you take the time to read it. I hope that you enjoy it and I would love to read your thoughts about my work.

STOP THE CLOCK-A Poem

Tick tock there goes the clock.

What can I do to make it stop.

Just pause for a few.

I need to catch my breath, phew!

Tick tock there goes the clock.

Can someone slow it down?

I can’t have grey hair, at least not right now.

Tick tock there goes the clock.

I found another wrinkle under my eyes.

Oh no what happened to my thighs?

No thank you, I don’t like pie.

Tick tock there goes the clock.

Can someone please make it STOP!

With a kid in college and the other almost there, I now have time to stop and care.

Mirror Mirror on the freaking wall.

What the hell happened?

What are all these scars?

And the mirror answered back.

Tick tock I will have to stop the clock.

I will explain from the bottom to the top.

By Alkisa Toribio

Single Mom/One day I noticed!

#52 Essays Next Wave

Luggage

I can not carry your shit anymore! I said as they were all standing there in front of me. I thought they didn’t hear me but they did. I thought I had used my inner voice. You know the quiet one that everyone suggested you use to avoid offending the person or persons hearing what you have to say. It just came out. Loud and clear for all of them to hear. I mean, I have been thinking about saying it for some time but, I never had the strength to actually say it. Oh my, today it just came out. You are probably wondering what led to the sudden loud outburst. All the other outburst were always loud in my head but this time it was loud for all of them to hear. Could it have been that my arms were tired? Could it have been that my shoulders couldn’t bear the weight. Could it be the amount of bags that I was handed without any warning or end. I can’t carry your shit anymore? I said it again. I am tired! I mean my body is physically tired! My mind is physically tired! I said it again and again. What is wrong with me? I thought. Why are you so upset? I asked myself. Why are you lashing out in this way? I thought to myself. All this extra weight you all just piled on me as the years have passed. You asked me to hold one thing but you never came back to pick it up. When you did come back it was to ask me to hold more. Hold this shit right here for me you said and I just stood there and watched you turn around and walk away. Holding your shit is exhausting. I never took a look at what was in the bags. I just held them. I never opened them out of respect. I just looked at them from the outside never realizing the damage it could cause me. I know it was heavy and you needed help carrying them or you would have never dropped them off. However, the years have past and I waited for you to come back and pick up your bags. You never came and so I decided to open them up. One by one. Every single bag that each and everyone of you decided to dump on me. I wanted to know why they were so heavy. When I looked inside they were full of stuff. Stuff that had nothing to do with me. So I called you all here today to let you know that I can’t carry your shit anymore and I want to give it back. See holding your shit while you move through life looking pretty and weightless is not right. While I hold your shit you travel around the world with no luggage. Pretending that everything is ok. Deceiving the world. I look heavy and tired. I think my hands are bleeding. Your bags are like razors slicing open my skin. Leaving scars which have become a constant reminder of your shit. Your shit! Your luggage! Not mine! I am sorry for being so abrupt. If my voice and actions offend you. I just want to give you all your luggage back. The bag of abuse, hurt, addiction and selfishness. The bag of self doubt, laziness, lack of accomplishment and self defeat. I hope you can understand why I am so warn out and tired. Why I have aged and my feet are dry and brittle. Why I can’t carry them anymore. Your shit is heavy, evil and draining. My bags are light because I have learned to travel light. I am not saying that I haven’t been faced with stuff. I have just learned to let it go. I have learned to carry what will help me move forward. So…. here are your bags, I have got to go. I can’t move forward looking like this anymore. I have scheduled a mani-pedi, a massage and a facial and I can’t be late.