La Academia Speaks! (Vol. 1) Cafe Cultura Community Speaks Project #8 Xpress Yourself Workshop Participants
La Academia Speaks! (Vol. 1) Copyright Š 2013 by Xpress Yourself Workshop Participants All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
To the students at La Academia dedicating themselves to bettering our community
Acknowledgments Thank you to everyone at La Academia and Denver Inner City Parish for allowing us the opportunity to work with your students. It has been a long time coming! Special shout out to all Xpress Yourself workshop participants for offering your time, words, and energy in making our time together a success. Keep writing and telling your stories! “It’s our responsibility and choice to express ourselves and lift our voice, together building unity, leaders in our community. This is how we tell our stooorrrryyyy!”
Foreword After hosting our open mic event at La Academia for over 8 years, it feels good to finally be able to take the next step in teaching an elective. We are proud that our partnership has produced this poetry/spoken word chapbook written by La Academia students. In what we hope to be a series, these middle and high school youth present their stories, offering critical insight into how they see the world. We hope you enjoy the poems presented here and use them as examples of how you too can express yourself and tell your own story. For those who do not know about organization: Café Cultura is an award-winning arts, culture, and youth development organization in Denver that promotes unity and healing among Indigenous peoples through creative expression while empowering youth to find their voice, reclaim oral and written traditions, and become leaders in their communities. Café Cultura has been providing positive, creative, and engaging community spaces for the Denver metropolitan area for more than nine years. The idea for our organization emerged during the summer of 2004 with the passing of respected elder and veteran poet Abelardo “Lalo” Delgado. At that moment, we realized and accepted our responsibility to continue using our oral and written traditions to provide opportunities for creative expression not offered in schools or in the larger community. Café Cultura also drew inspiration from the movements connecting Indigenous people from throughout the Americas. In that spirit of Red/Brown Unity, we hoped to use creative expression to unify people representing southern Indigenous nations, known by terms such as “Chicana/o,” “Mexicana/o,” and “Latina/o,” with those Natives of northern nations, referred to today as “Native American” or “American Indian.”
Café Cultura’s most well-known event has found a home at the Denver Inner City Parish/La Academia, where we consistently attract 150 to 350 people the second Friday of every month. In fact, we host one of the best open mic venues in the Denver metropolitan area, and the only space focused on family and youth. We take pride in featuring amazing poets, musicians, and visual artists from the Denver area as well as those from outside the state. In addition to our monthly open mic, Café Cultura Collective members perform poetry at schools and community functions as well as conduct spoken word and hip hop workshops for youth. We partner with select organizations and schools to facilitate intensive workshops, publish youth poetry, showcase participants at community events, and develop young leaders. If you or your organization is interested in collaborating, feel free to contact us. We hope to see you the 2nd Friday of every month. For more information: info@cafecultura.org; 720-394-6589 www.cafecultura.org; www.facebook.com/cafecultura
Table of Contents Brown is Beauty by Anya ......................................................................1 Grandma by Melany ..............................................................................3 A Warrior by Aniah ...............................................................................5 I Am Me by Isaiah..................................................................................8 The Room in the Dark by Christian ....................................................9 Through My Ancestors' Eyes by Ashlie .......................................... 10 Circle Around My Family by Steven ................................................ 12 My Love by Angel ............................................................................... 13 Where I Come From by Luis ............................................................ 14 The Story in My Eyes by Alanah ...................................................... 15 I Run by Anya...................................................................................... 16 Breaking Free by Melany.................................................................... 18 Look in the Mirror by Aniah ............................................................. 20 5th Flores by Isaiah ............................................................................. 22 On the Train by Angel ....................................................................... 24 Brown People by Christian ................................................................ 26 Lies and Truth by Ashlie .................................................................... 27 Maze of Life by Steven ....................................................................... 30 Obstacles by Luis ................................................................................ 32 Journey to Success by Alanah............................................................ 33 My Journey by Anya ........................................................................... 36 I Just Don't Fit by Isaiah .................................................................... 38 The People Near the Border by Luis ............................................... 39
The Heart in My Apple by Alanah .................................................... 40 My Community by Anya .................................................................... 42 More Than What You See by Ashlie ................................................ 43 My Community is a Fire by Anya ..................................................... 44
Brown is Beauty by Anya Mama, some girl at school today asked me why I was dark and why you were light. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything at all... She asked me if I was adopted and whooo, did I go off on her. Why do people stare at us when we go to the store? Why don't I look like the girls on Nickelodeon or the Disney Channel? Oh, because I’m not light. I’m black. When you mix Native-American, African-American, and Mexican together, this is what you get. But one thing I’ve learned over these last past years is that I’m beautiful too. Yes I’m dark, but I’m lovely. Yes I have big brown eyes, but these eyes can make you fall in love. Yes I have thick curly hair, but it shows the beautiful blend of my parents’ culture. I love my color but it wasn't always this way. I remember wondering why my body was developing quicker than other girls. I remember wishing that I was one shade lighter or one size smaller. I remember wanting to fit in and how hard and fake I would pretend to be. I remember being the only black girl in my class, in my grade,
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in my school probably. I remember crying into my pillow until tears would no longer bleed out. I remember my mom telling me that my skin tone is beautiful and that everyone is unique in their own way. I remember not believing this. As I come into my own person though, I look at who I want to be and who I don’t. And so far, I love who I’m becoming. My color makes me proud of my ancestors who broke through the shackles of slavery and racism. I feel like I too, am breaking chains. I’m breaking the chains of society and what it tells me I can and cannot be. So yes, I still get stares when I go to Highlands Ranch and I still have to find clothes that fit my body right. And I’m still the only black girl in my class. But I’m okay with this. Because it’s a representation of who I am, where I’m from, and where I’m going. I’m brown and beautiful.
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Grandma by Melany She’s a hard worker, never giving up. She comes from the poor, hoping to die with meaning to her life. She works in the fields. To pass time, she listens to the sound of music, music that her mother played for her when she was a child. It comforts and soothes her soul reminding her of an innocent time, with fond memories of family and laughter. She works just to make ends meet, living to support a family. But what she doesn’t know is half of her family already works across town to make ends meet, just like her. She’s 70, working on her hands and knees, like she’s 20 again. She goes home to soak her aching feet, tired and swollen from working 15 hours a day, but work is not over. Returning home to cook, wash, and care for her grandchildren, the day is long and hard. Seeing the smiles on their faces and love in their eyes seems to make it all worthwhile. Yet she knows that tomorrow is another day of sacrifice for her family. She puts on a brave smile, knowing that tomorrow brings a new hope and faith of better things yet to come. As the sun rises on a new day,
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she awakes with her head held high, knowing that her faith and commitment in God will surely bring a brighter day.
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A Warrior by Aniah Let me tell you a story about someone dear to my heart, the only guy who’s been here from the very start. Our journey began when I was 5 years old. Now listen to this story that needs to be told. Age 7: He met his best friend, promised he’d be here until the very end. Like Bonnie and Clyde, they stood side by side. And as time went, she started to realize. He isn’t an average kid. She saw the things he faced and how he learned at a different pace. Staying behind after school, but never knowing why, she finally built up enough courage and with a hesitant sigh, she questioned. “It’s dyslexia.” Silenced, in shock, she stood there frozen. The words from his mouth made her heart drop. Not completely understanding what he was going through, the words she spoke imprinted in his mind,
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“I’m here for you.” Age 11 She witnessed his first fight, suspended all because he defended the most important woman in his life: his mom. The hate of another boy triggered a side no one has ever seen. An 11 year old boy tired of being pushed, showed just how mean he could be. Finally making a stand for himself, he started to block everyone out. December 13th of 2008, the day he lost someone truly great. The world collapsed before his eyes. Trying not to show his pain, he started to hide. February of 2009 Watching the woman who gave him life lay in a hospital bed, all day and night. Constantly being by her side, he watched this strong woman put up a fight. May 6th of 2011 Two years after battling a sickness no one should experience, this woman came out on top. At a time when things looked a little better, they took a turn for the worse. Sitting in a hospital room with him, thinking it’s all a check-up, it turned into something I never wanted to hear from my best friend. “I’m sick.”
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Sick, the word stood, running around in my head. The miserable sickness that his mom fought, he was about to fight. Tears rushed down my face, this can’t be true, it just can’t. Days felt like weeks, weeks felt like months, never did I think my heart could hurt this much. 4 months soon passed and we started spending each moment like it was our last. Hospital check-ups were nothing new. But to me, it still couldn’t be true. Watching him lay there weak and hooked up to machines had to be the worst. Time went on and he started growing stronger. And as I laid there with my head on his chest, I heard the soft beats of his warm heart. He’s a warrior, a warrior whose courage will never end, a warrior who showed me what true strength is, the strength I carry today. He is a warrior who showed that every tunnel has a light at the end, someone I am proud to call my best friend.
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I Am Me by Isaiah I am the green chile chicken enchiladas my mother made throughout my childhood, the chile-soaked chicken surrounding the pan, the spice that some cannot handle. I am the dish no one can be mad at when served, even the smell that makes your whole body excited for the meal it’s about to encounter. I am Taos and the adobe, keeping the houses warm during winter and cool in the summer. I am the pueblo that has been there since the town itself and the scrumptious smell of roasting green chile as you go grocery shopping. I am the dirt roads that take you to all the important places. I am my uncle Jed, and a disciple of his favorite saying “Don’t ever let never be in your vocabulary.” I remember the enthusiasm he had as he used to pull the sled from his jeep down the freshly snowed road. I am the man he was, his strength, his mind, and his power. I am his legacy. I am the pendant of my uncle’s thumbprint dangling from my neck, the silver immortalizing the imprint. I am the chain keeping it close to my heart whenever I need to channel my inner Jed. I am the unique lines that no one on this planet will ever have again. I am and always will be, me.
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The Room in the Dark by Christian I open my eyes and try to get up but there's something holding me back. I look around and see no one near. I look down and realize it's an unknown person grabbing my wrist, which is preventing me from leaving this dark room and continue my successful life. I scream and I shout but no one seems to answer my horrific calls. Then I hear a whisper in my ear telling me to get my damn sh*t together because everything I say and do will be noticed by the man above and will affect you later in life. I take in all the things this person says and think, I think and I think and I think, then it hits me. I'm the only one to change my actions and do the right things for myself. The hand grabbing my right wrist slowly shifts away leaving a red hand print on my skin. I look down once again and I realize that the person who was actually grabbing my hand was me. I know now that I, and I alone, am able to free myself from this shameful room.
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Through My Ancestors' Eyes by Ashlie Let me tell you a story. This story takes place in the land of broken promises, where our voice is taken, flattened out like a tortilla, folded neatly by a person who has mastered the art of origami, and hidden away in the deepest barrios of a land unknown. This land, with coordinates hidden away never to be found by those who are now trapped in the land of broken promises. In this land, live many girls like myself: brown hair, brown eyes, and most importantly, brown skin. Girls, like me, go out of their way to fit in to this land, trying to scrub off their beautiful brown skin with soap and rocks, hoping that it would show some lighter shade. They only bleed and leave imprints of what could have been. They spend $18.99 on green or blue contacts, masking away the gorgeous brown eyes that their ancestors once saw through. The brown hair is bleached by a chemical provided by those who live there. To most of us, we think it’s easier to carry ourselves with blonde hair, blue or green eyes, and light skin, but not me. I am proud of my brown skin. It is living proof that my people worked hard in the sun to provide for those who looked down upon them. I am proud of my brown eyes. My eyes once belonged to an ancestor ages ago,
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one who made beautiful and colorful jewelry and experienced the world in a one of a kind point of view. My hair is no longer brown, my hair is a shade of red. Red was the color that my ancestors used to paint their faces for battle, a battle to protect their own. Red was the blood my ancestors shed in tears and sweat building our future. Instead of changing myself to look like a starved vogue magazine model to meet society's beauty standards, I rather look like my ancestors. I am them. They are me.
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Circle Around My Family by Steven The day she gave me her ring, she brought back memories. It brings back her childhood, its beauty just like in her, Now that I go back, feeling her warmth in the ring, I see that my finger is bigger than before. I put it on a necklace and wear it daily. It brings back memories, cheerful and painful. When I wear it, I'm as happy as a bee finding honey. We’re all happy, remembering her, having fun, and making memories We know she’s remembering us too. She had four wonderful kids, who she taught to be as strong as she was. She was too beautiful for pageants, winning all trophies but one. Everybody loves everything about her. We are from Colorado. All of my family has lived here and we love it. We are as happy as a camel on a Wednesday. It's cool and nice here. My family and I are the Chicano Power fist. We asked for freedom and we got it because Brown is Beautiful.
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My Love by Angel Mi Amor, my love is the beauty I see every morning. I spend my day with her. I stare at her and see her beautiful hazel eyes. I calmly see her amazing smile lighting up my mood. The love I have for you is unspeakable. I lose my sadness each time I wrap my arms around you and you wrap your arms around me. Your hugs fill my body with butterflies, even though you joined my life 11 months ago. The 14th of November was the day you became my love. You’re the one and only reason I decide to wake up every day because I know I am going to be with you. You’re the one who made my smile return. The day you became my girl, my entire personality changed and my moods changed from mad, sad, and bad. You changed them to glad. I know the day I lose you will be the day I regret for eternity because you are special to me. I want you to be my wife, my Queen, my other half, till the end of eternity. Yo si te amo. I do love you and will give my life for you and our future family.
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Where I Come From by Luis I come from el estado mas grande de Mexico, where Pancho Villa got his troops to fight the war for freedom, La Revoluci贸n Mexicana. I am the future for my family. I am the food that brings mi familia together to gain trust These memories will be remembered forever and will make us laugh in the future with our own sons and daughters.
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The Story in My Eyes by Alanah I will never forget the pains and struggles of my past, the fears in every tear I've shed, the memories play in my head. You will never know what has brought me here to present day. We are here to stay. I show my strength in my actions, but my pain, is shown in my eyes. I look forward to the best goodbyes, goodbye to my struggles, goodbye to my pain. The fear will soon go down the drain. I take pride in my actions, take pride in my words. Every man soon gets what he deserves. I carry the past in my head to tell the great stories of those who are dead. I carry this necklace, I wear this headdress upon my head to physically show that I am my past. I smile to think of what we've overcome. Our hearts give the beat of drums. Our voices are the harmony of the unspoken words. Our smiles are like the earth’s heavenly curves, Our blood runs like our ancestors hunting for food, mouth-watering delicious, with a long history, a reason our past isn't a full mystery, Or is it? Has everything that's been passed down to me, right? I would know more if I could experience the fights. But all I get is the passed down stories, hoping they weren't all mixed allegories.
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I Run by Anya I take a deep breath, my heart’s already beating fast. I count to ten and then start to click my heels. This feeling I get when I run is refreshing. I feel full of life. It’s just getting the energy and courage to run that’s hard. Whew, ¼ of a mile: I feel my breath picking up and my muscles being worked. I brace myself. I can do it. ½ a mile: By now, I passed by dog walkers, senior citizens, and even a fitness class. I soon see women with strollers. Not just any women, but desperate trophy moms who don’t have anything else to do but meet up with friends and gossip. I watch them scan me and make a comment about my workout clothes. “How does she wear that outside of her house?” “OMG look, her socks don’t even match!” I stare back and find myself feeding into their drama. I see the 1 mile mark when I find myself on the floor. I was so focused on the stupid soccer moms that I didn’t realize that my shoe was untied. I let them get to me. I gave them the reaction that they were looking for. At this point, I don’t even feel like getting back up. I can feel the gravel digging into my knees. I feel my chest lift and push back into the rocks because I’m breathing so heavy. I roll over to my back and take a deep breath.
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I see a man running in my direction, but I don’t even care. I remain on the floor. I wait for him to pass by me, but instead he stops by my side and offers me his hand. He reaches out for my hand and tells me to get up. I never met this man before. Why did he care if I get up or not? I grab his hand, thank him once I’m up, and he continues to run. I smile, thankful that he helped me. Maybe there are good people out in this crazy world. I put my hair up, tie my shoe, and run. I can feel my scabbed knee burning, but I continue to fight. I wave as I pass by the man who had helped me. At 1 ½ miles: My eyes meet the soccer moms again. But this time, they aren’t going to win. I look through them, not even noticing them. I smile, not because I’m being fake but because I no longer care what they think.
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Breaking Free by Melany When I see you I want hurt you. You made me into this person. You make me wary of everything. When you visit, I'm just waiting for the next excuse for you to leave. When I grow up, I want to be nothing like you. I don't want to look like you. I don't want to act like and I certainly don't want be you. When I see all the hurt you caused the people around you, I just want to slap you back into reality. Sometimes I want to see what you see, hear what you hear, and think what you think just to know what goes through your mind. I know you think differently than me and that's fine, but the way you think is screwed up and no one can understand it. But then again, no one wants to understand it. I don't care anymore though. You messed up my look out at life. You affected the way I communicate. You ruined my outlook on relationships. Luckily my family saved me. They made me see what I couldn't because of this blind fold you put on me. But now that I can take it off, I can take you, knowing that my family is 100% behind me. I'm not scared anymore. I know now that it doesn't matter what you think. All that matters is the people who care about me, who actually value me, who actually like me,
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and don't just want to use me for their own benefit. You cannot hurt me anymore. I broke free from you and I will stay that way.
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Look in the Mirror by Aniah Who do you see when you look in the mirror? Do you see the reflection of a normal teenager? Or how about the perfect image this generation has portrayed? I know when I look in the mirror, I see someone far from perfection. Now-a-days, it is hard to tell who is real and who is fake, all because this “perfect image” this messed up generation has made. Remember that girl back in 6th grade, the one with tears in her eyes and a fake smile on her face? To this day, she gets judged all because of her race. Or how about that boy you saw just last week, the one everyone knows as the school freak? Judged because of the scars on his arms, little do they know he struggles just for a bite to eat. No one knows our stories but us. Yet everyone judges like they know stuff. Now let me ask you this, Do you know what it feels like to have that razor at your wrist? Take a step in their shoes and look through their eyes. Then maybe, just maybe you’ll see how hard it is
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to maintain a smile when you’re slowly dying on the inside. No one is perfect and everyone lies. So before you judge someone maybe you should stop and realize. Everyone has a past they want to erase and everyone has a story behind the struggles they face. So, take a look in the mirror one more time‌ Do you see who you really are? Or do you see the judgmental wannabes this generation has made?
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5th Flores by Isaiah What do you think of when you hear of Flores? The beautiful petals covering the spring grass? I think of a list, a list of thugs, criminals, & a drug dealer who doesn’t take care of his sixteen kids, who happens to be my father. This list comes to mind because it is the name that fills my birth certificate, and all of my family before me. But they shame the name. They make people who hear the name get the feeling of disgust. I don’t want to fit in that list. I want to bring fame to the name. I want people who hear the name, Isaiah Flores, and get the feeling of pride. And not just pride, but positive pride. Because my family brings pride that most would look down upon. They glorify becoming mothers before they are juniors in high school. I want to celebrate getting my first paycheck before welcoming the birth of my first born. They praise the thirty bucks that came from the hand that now holds an 8-ball. I cherish the education that is given to me from the hands that will soon place a diploma in mine. I am the flower that is planted in a field where most would want to poison me but my roots grow thick They grow long and reach the water. That lets me break from the weeds’ grip
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because I am the Flores that will not let anything block the sun. I will bloom like no Flores before me. I will break the mold that a Flores should fit in. I will set a new precedent of what a Flores should be and the next generation would want to strive for.
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On the Train by Angel Obstacles are everywhere on the roads, sidewalks, and in life. Mi vida has been like a passenger train. Since the day I began to walk, my life was done. It started with my first obstacle of getting over this irresponsible childish man that is my father, but I call him my donor. This obstacle was like a long wait at the train station, pain and anger is all I felt. The pain of losing a father is bad but you learn to be a man on your own. You learn from those terrible mistakes and avoid doing that in your future. You have to get over the loss of a father and enjoy life with the rest of the family. The train takes off after that 5 year wait. I see a clear path, a sunny view filled with the laughter from family and friends, until I started hanging out with the group of friends and got off at 14th and Lipan st. I hit my first blunt, pipe, bong, joint, man, and rival. This stop was different. It was fun and entertaining. I was with those friends I grew up with. I was with the family who I joined 11 years ago. I joined this group, witnessing and taking part in dreadful, painful, exciting, and joyous events. I was reppin’ that gurple gang, until I bumped into that group of people trying to get on the leaving train. At age 16, I talk to these people, all telling me to get on this train with them.
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They say, “Your next stop you won’t regret.” I decide to join this group and board the train once again. Along with me, onboard there is my Family, my Teachers, my Friends, and my lovely future Wife. My next stop was my last stop. No more gurple gang. No more sadness. All that remains: me becoming a man and climbing over these obstacles. I welcome the love and happiness while showing it to everyone.
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Brown People by Christian Brown skin, brown eyes, brown hair, y con el nopal a la frente. These are some features Mexicans might have. Many people might judge us because of how we look or the way we speak. None of these things should be what we're judged for, instead for our actions and personalities. Yeah, we may be dark and brown but we are the reasons why there are school, hospitals, and even homes. Without our help, there would probably be few of those things. This is why we all should respect and not judge one another, because you never know the things we do to help our world and the community.
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Lies and Truth by Ashlie I walk in as a story is being told, where a blind man told a deaf man who was nodding as if he understood that he saw a one legged man walking down the street as if he had two. Could we believe this to be true, like we believe the sky is blue? Was the truth being told? We'll never know because we are all silenced, given the death penalty. Our voices cannot be heard, shackles on our wrists and ankles, trapped in our own bodies. Our voice, our voice is held prisoner, forbidden from seeing the light of day, forbidden from saying the slightest word, forbidden from speaking the truth. The truth must be heard. Like handling roses filled with thorns, it must be picked and shown no matter how much it hurts. It’s nothing that can be sugar-coated but be replaced or stretched out. Lies..... Lies that damage, lies that hurt lies that prevent us from living our OWN lives, lies that control, leaving bad impressions, causing us to believe that our ancestors lied,
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causing suffering throughout. Society Race Economic Class. Gender Orientation Examples, examples of those who suffer, suffering because of those who promised, promised that they too can live by the 1st Amendment: freedom of speech. They were promised a voice that was later taken by those avoiding to tell the truth, the ugly truth waiting to be told. But we are threatened to remain silent because anything we say CAN be and WILL be used against us. When will this end? When will the cycle of silence be broken? Because that’s all that’s left. Without our voices speaking, we will never know the truth , the unspeakable ugly truth… buried underneath a bed of lies that cause hurt and suffering. We, us, as a society must come together to fight the silence, to show those who silence us that we have come to redeem our rights that we were once promised to show that we no longer carry fear
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or just being a coward that we will fight until we have a voice, until we can be released from our mental prisons, until the truth is told. We are tired of being used as an example, to be mocked and embarrassed in front of everyone and being an example of what not to do, but no longer. We will stand up for ourselves and use the voice that was once forbidden and use it to tell the truth, so that future generations will not suffer. Our voices will be heard like once before, when this was really the land of the free and home of the brave.
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Maze of Life by Steven The choices I make aren't always good. My life is like a maze, not knowing what happens next. I don’t know if my decision is right or wrong. Every turn I make, I'm afraid of what will happen next. Some friends I hang out with aren't the best. Some of them slow me down. My best friends make me want to stay. I trust them and always will, just like the other loved-ones in my life. My family, I don't want to leave them. It's way too hard to go. Like in a maze, you are never supposed to split up but sometimes you just need to. I want to leave to college, a college where I will be happy, My friends and family will be happy for me, at a college where I will be strong. I'm going to move to a good, fun place, where I will be happy and successful. You know a place where everything doesn't matter, a place where I can start a wonderful life. It's like the end of a maze: Once I finish, I will be happy.
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Nothing will stop me from getting what I want. I will earn everything. I deserve every bit of this.
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Obstacles by Luis I was born with obstacles, like racism. Life is like a game. If you break a rule, there is punishment. If you pass a level, you have more options and it gets harder. When I fail, I get up and try again until I get it right. The choices that I make right now will affect my future. It is my goal to overcome these problems and to be proud of the challenges that I have met. I’m passing by the people of society, until I come across the wall of hate, jealousy, and discrimination. It is tough to break but on my side I have hope, happiness, y la chancla.
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Journey to Success by Alanah I am on the bus ride through the beginning of my life, my soul is the driver, but the rest of me is stuck in the back with the passengers. I walk onto the bus, and show my bus pass. The driver nods, she looks familiar, but I shrug my shoulders and walk to the back. I smile as I pass everybody one by one, my thoughts get interrupted as I hear somebody call my name, I turn and look. I see grey-hair, baggy clothes, and the same eyes I remember looking to for guidance since day one. I smile and sit down as he asks how I’ve been. I say good, as I try proving to him that he has taught me well. But then I get interrupted by the smell of perfume. Trying to get my attention, a girl who has hated me since second grade was sitting in the back, like an ant in the shade. I look at her, she give a smirk and I smile back. I turn around and get my thoughts back on track. Oh look, my apple, we’re on memory lane. I’m lucky I’ve made good choices thus far or this part of the drive would drive me insane, Indeed my summer, you can go sit with your friends,
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but remember what I’ve taught you when you get to the end. So I go sit with my friends, but there’s new people with them. Their eyes are red, with big smiles on their faces. Hooligans took my friends’ places, some smell of alcohol. I’m disappointed. I never wanted this to happen at all. We then drive onto the path known as the Street of Struggles. They stand up and pull the line, looking puzzled as they see me still sitting. I said, “I’ll stick to my own bubble, I’m not looking for trouble.” So I stay on, play my music and listen to my favorite songs. I look out the window watching them, wishing they never got off, that life’s rough. I know some are tough, maybe they’ll get back on track sometime soon. They need to realize it before it’s their last chance. But I’m still cool. I get off on the Road of Happiness. I like this, it feels good. I take a stroll through the neighborhood. I end up waiting for my next bus on the Path of Knowledge. I meet mental prisoners and open minded people in college. “You can’t get on this bus with the way you look. Change your hair, take out those piercings,
La Academia Speaks! (Vol. 1)
and read my books.” But on the other hand, people tell me, “Be real, be yourself, it’s easier to drive a car with nobody else, judging you, reminding you that you can’t be better than them, convincing you to sin.” I let those thoughts sink in as I sit on the bus. I try to my make my decisions wisely without any rush. I choose to be me, do my own thing, I see my stop coming up, so I stand and pull the string. I step off, with a big smile, it took a while, but I’m here, At the end of the Road to Success, I forget about the struggles, make money, live happy, stretch my back, and crack my knuckles. I can’t believe I came this far. My Journey to Success, just to say “I’ve made it,” leaves myself impressed.
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My Journey by Anya I stick the key in the ignition, but wait to turn it. What if the car doesn’t start? It is too far for me to walk to my destination. I manage to get the car running. I sit on Santa Fe Drive. I wait, to pass by the crash, that could have been prevented, to my right. I drive past 16th Street, but struggle to dodge the daring bikers and careless pedestrians that walk even when the orange hand tells them otherwise. I find a desperate, old homeless man on Curtis Street whose eyes meet mine. I usually don’t pay attention to those asking for money, but there was something different about him. His wrinkles gave away how many years of pain and struggle he’s had. His faded brown eyes pleaded with despair. How did he find himself in this situation? And even though I wasn’t sure what he’d do with the money, I roll down the window and give him a $5. I drive a few blocks and think about my journey. How nice it would be to have somebody in the car with me… I turn on the radio and soon begin to sing off beat to my favorite song. I park in a 7-Eleven parking lot because I realize I have no idea where I was going. The music must have distracted me. A stranger taps on my window and asks me where to find the Rockies stadium. I point it out to her.
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She thanks me and walks away. Because I couldn’t remember where I was going, I decide to just jump on the highway and head home. When I get home, I sit on my porch and watch my dog run freely in the piles of leaves. I finally remember where I was going. I’m going to graduate high school with a 4.0 GPA. I’m going to get a scholarship and go to Medical school. I’m going to save children’s lives. I’m going to give back to the community I come from. I’m going to have my own family. I’m going to be successful.
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I Just Don't Fit by Isaiah I am the puzzle piece that does not fit. No matter where you try to put me, I just don’t fit. Try that angle, turn it around, try another way, it’s no use. I just don’t fit. You’d think I’d belong to another puzzle, but you’re wrong No matter how hard you force me to fit that spot, it won’t work, it never does. I’m just that puzzle piece that you don’t want to waste your time on and just throw away. Or the piece you lost years ago and just kept the puzzle because that missing piece was useless anyway. But if you manage to, somehow, get me to fit in that spot where you think I go, I’ll look awkward and you’ll notice that I stick out. The colors don’t match, and that one corner of the piece that is me is just too small for the spot it’s in. I may not fit into any puzzle, but uniqueness will be better than any puzzle.
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The People Near the Border by Luis The people are celebrating in the neighborhood. A beautiful young girl turned 15. A party just ended. People are crying with joy, thinking it was a good quinceañera. Then white SUVs arrive, with green lines and big white words that say “Border Patrol.” With his mind racing to know what is happening, a little kid runs to his tio, who is undocumented. Some people see beautiful America as a place filled with hate and racism. Being abused by the border patrol, he thinks, “Why is this happening to me? It was not supposed to be like this. I was told different. I was told is a lie. Life sucks if you are different, but I will overcome this.”
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The Heart in My Apple by Alanah Grey-eyed day, I'm looking for the sun but it isn’t shining today. I look for you everywhere, corner stores, liquor stores, and alleys. When I get home, I see your shoes, pocket knife, and cellphone on the floor. I rest my head on the door, thinking to myself, not again. It's funny how red, white, and blue represent freedom until they're on the top of the car behind you. Their messages blind you. I'm here to remind you that everything they tell you isn't true. Real eyes realize real lies. Keep your mind open like an open book lies. So I stay early mornin’ cruisin’, on hot summer days. Good vibes are flowin' as our summer music plays, caught up in a daze. The soft music plays,
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reminiscing on moments from back in the day, the days you want to go back to. You don't only want to but you have to. There’s nothing that you can do about it. Play back those memories in your brain, driving you insane cause of all the emotional pain slowly taking over. You just want to shout it. You will see them again, don't doubt it. Saying rest in peace, you lived a rough life, but you were my hero, the only person who lifted my happiness up to a ten from a zero. Who is here for me now though? It feels like nobody. I just want to be somebody, somebody you would be proud of. You are the apple of my eye. I can’t look away because I can’t say goodbye. It’s so hard to even try so I try not to cry. It's just one of those days, when the soft music plays, reminiscing on moments from the future of today, the days I can’t wait to get to. I’ll still love you and I’ll miss you. I will never forget you because you are that angel by my side.
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My Community by Anya Do I owe anything to the community; the community that made me, raised me, and supported me? Do I owe anything to the community of single mothers and dropout students? To the community that helps me get the education I deserve. The community that helps me be in a leadership program instead of on the streets? The community that I know will always be there for me. I owe this community, me. I owe it recognition, appreciation, and dedication. I owe it aspiration, inspiration, concentration, liberation, participation, tradition, and attention; everything it showed me. My community cares about me. It strives to do whatever it can for me. The people in the community try their hardest to keep me in school and to go on to a much brighter future. But when I get there, I promise not to forget where I come from. I promise not to forget my roots, or the people who helped push me on the way. Without my community, my dreams would stay dreams.
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More Than What You See by Ashlie These secular buildings may look non-religious to the naked eye but in reality, they are decorated with propaganda with just the right touch of repression. When you walk in through the door, you see all the suffering of those who are held back. Why do all these people on the stage seem so giddy? Why, they are the dictators happy and joyful because they know that no one shall dare depose them, or so they thought. The optimistic attitude of the militia is hidden by a faรงade, just waiting for their chance to strike back and show that they are more than just peasants and that they are more than dollars signs and captives. They want to show that they can be more than statistics, that they can overthrow this corrupt society.
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My Community is a Fire by Anya I watch the flames dance on top of the candle. They rise like steam, never ending. I wonder where the flame goes. After it rises, it disappears. Does it continue in the air or does it secretly run to the bottom of the flame? I assume its spirit continues on through the air, but I’m not satisfied with that. Why would the flame rise and leave the rest of the burning fire behind? Together, the flames make a fire. Why would the flame rise and leave the rest behind? Together, they are so powerful, so strong, so unbreakable. Together, my community is a fire too. It’s a light that guides us to the future. So why would people “rise” and leave? Once they make it, why would they take off instead of celebrating with their people? It’s our responsibility to stick together, to take care of one another, to respect and support one another, to do whatever we can for each other. It’s like an unwritten contract: when you become part of the group and take something, you have now agreed to give and help the others. You’ve agreed to provide a shoulder for someone to cry on, a long conversation with a lost, lonely soul,
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maybe even shelter for a struggling friend. Anything that somebody’s done for you, you must return. If somebody has helped you through a rough time, you must help somebody else through that the same. They helped you heal, so return the favor. When it comes down to it, all we have left is each other. So we need to cherish that. We need to value our community, before we don’t have it anymore. So, take care of yourself, your family, and your community. Stand by them and always be proud of where you come from.
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