La Audacia De Subir Antes Del Sol - Poetry Collection by Rafael Andres Jennings (Excerpts)
La Audacia De Subir Antes Del Sol (pt.1)
Busco sinónimos para palabras que no existen,
Para sentimientos que no he sentido,
Para creencias que no he pensado,
Para momentos que no me han sucedido.
Es en los momentos fijos done no puedo tocar a esa persona,
La versión de mí mismo que solo puede gozar de sus sueños,
El que llora por un poco más de corazones.
Me dirijo hacia una vida que no tiene dueño.
Todavía, en la noche,
Con los ojos mojados y el alma vacía,
Estoy rezando por una visión más vasta,
Una como aquellos espejismos que no parten de mi mente.
Por la noche, la luna me mira y me pregunta:
¿Quién te da la audacia de subir antes del sol?
Third World Demon
My arms grew stiff in an orphanage crib
Between my daily three meals of soup
And being cradled by the Colombian women
I sat months-old with no mother
Reaching medically stiff arms to the stars
Grasping for a mobile that was not mine
Plane wheels descended into Syracuse, New York
And I became an American
They all took photos with me in the airport
Coddled by the white arms of my mother
Decorated In my Colombian Jersey
Staring at my new family with eyes coated in confusion
It was the last time I had my Afro
And it was the last time my arms were stiff
They say, America healed me
After my adoption I slept in an orange room
With walls painted depicting yellow stars and moons
To remind me of the skies I’ve owned
When I slept,
I screamed and cried into the ceilings
Straining my vocal cords my parents’ hearts
The night terrors bellowed through the house
made my parents think,
“Who is this third world demon”
When I turned six the windows scared me when I laid in bed
Turning and seeing the trees talking to me
I would investigate my pillows and see oceans of neon fish filling my the covers
My parents didn’t believe me
So, I would stare at the ceiling until fatigue tranquilized me
Fearful to face the nights that now terrorized me
Now, in my bed I search for the moon
behind the trees the that used to mock me
Floating in a sky I once commanded
A sky reminding me of what I am constantly reaching for
A feeling of release that lingers among stars
Something that might only exist in the third world I was born
Or in the colors of the cosmos that struggle to leave me
It feels like everyone else did
When its just me and the world-splitting night
Angels
My mother used to pray for Angels to protect me
I imagined halos shining from behind the trees
Divine figures outside of my windows
As she whispered over me
As I pretended to be asleep
The vapor of an unknown city leads my feet
It coats my body
In a sweat that feels like mine
In a city that feels borrowed
I take the long way to math class
Because the view from the third floor reminds me of my grandparents’ lawn
The 5 pm sun that glows like Easter Sunday
Tucked in my subconscious I hold whispered prayers
Wrapped in the gold of Angels,
The compass my mother bestowed me
Angels in the form of memories
Love carried through the wind
It’s the smell of spring at my grandparent’s house
The music of The Beatles
Cherry dip on vanilla
The smell of a New Jersey boardwalk
These have become my Angels
The ones sent by mother to protect
The ones she assembled before I knew I needed them.
The Girls I Love
My best moments are laughing with girls
The ones who called me funny on the playground
Who hid me behind their shoulders as they talked to boys
Behind curtains of long hair and mascara they’ll cry
On the phone, in a pillow fort, on the swings
About the tree b’s bodies, boys, and brokenness
I could never help, because my own tears were forming too
In my glossy skin that stretched over tough bones
behind tired eyes that dug into a hard face
I have a soul that duplicates in girls
Skin that hates being touch
Beauty surveyed and conceded
I was surprised when one day all the girls left me
When men saw the brokenness and made it theirs
I think that’s what we were training ourselves for
A savior that rearranges us into adults
During hours I spent alone
And summers I cried for a friend
I realized that no man would ever save me
No girl would ever stay beside me
So, in the red hours of dawn, I lay with people whose violence is their haunting power
Wondering if I’m a man who lives to be hurt
I miss the power of lonely friends
The burning of an isolation intertwined
Young Love
There are mistakes I think I’d only make once
Like nights on the streets feeling the false pulse between my legs
Waiting to be colored in by your right hand
Vacant people spill their hearts
They brush beauty onto the cheeks of ugly
And their youth becomes their ruination
Like me
I sat under palm brushed skies
And still saw visions in the meaningless
One day danger will outrun my naivety
And God won’t pull me out from under the rain of untrustworthy love
Caught in a diamond’s shortcut to shimmer
But I’ve been doing this my whole life
Loving hazard because it’s my sacrifice
Dislodging my ribs to feel wanted again
Love in Miami
When I look at you, I see the sky blending into the sea
I see a city that never greys
I see palm trees swaying in his heart
You don't know what the wind feels like on my skin
How when it touches my closed eyes, I see orange leaves
When I cry about you
I see streets that winding down my mind
The ones that lead to my childhood bedroom
The ones that will never satisfy your eyes
My lips make up for years separated
When I grip your neck resisting the urge to squeeze
When I’m sitting on your lap
Arresting a blank mind
But when it’s over I still see the ocean in you
And a hear torchlit by sun
So, I seek my way in how I sought my way out
Pretending I know who I’ve always been
Pretending I know where I’m supposed to be
Dreamer
I used to take Benadryl to fall asleep
I read that the tiny pills induced vivid dreams
So, I religiously swallowed one a night
Dreaming through the write-away months of my life
In my dreams I’m the Rockstar I told my Grandma I would be
I’m the model my dad told me I needed a smaller waist to be
I was jealous of the houses with hills as front lawns
Their power understood in few words
I grew up hiding in plain sight
Lying to my family with my silence
slipping through the cracks into a deeper sleep
I've been dreaming in another language
embracing the confusion of REM
digesting it in a swollen stomach
So, I look back and defend the boy who wiped the cabinets clear of Benadryl
Who stared into Suburban mansions from the car
and lived in them on another plane
Now I dream of a love that shatters shame
The kind of love I hope to give to others
Love that answers the calls of dreams