Who I Am Volume 2

Who I am, Volume 2

A Collection of Poems by Ileana Collazo

Then and Now | Ileana Collazo |Digital Self-portrait

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I paint with words and write with images

At the dawn of time, the visual arts were born, holding their breath until words joined them. Together, they move the senses with a reckless force only matched by nature. I sometimes blend the two to create a unified experience, and at other times, I let them forge their separate paths. Music, the elusive ghost, often accompanies me in my creative journey.

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Table of Contents: 2004 Poems: A Day in the Life of a Stay-at-home Mom Epilogue Happy Anniversary Here I Am, Behind the Mask Life’s Crowded Waiting Room Los Relojes Nunca Paran My Doll Non-conformity Peace and Quiet

2007 Poems:

Ariana Standing Alone

17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

27 28

2009 Poems: A Pebble in Your Path Absolute Necessities Adam’s Son and Eve’s Daughter Another Day on Earth Another Year Rolled By Chrysalis Collecting Dust Particles Complaisant Condemned Daddy Dead on Arrival Dining at Dusk Duality Emily Empty Space Fawn in a Black Forest Forced Evolution Forward Drive Freedom by Incarceration

31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 4

Table of Contents, pg. 2: Legally Bound Lost Soul Monsters Never Sleep forever One Million Questions Pursuer Sentinel of Doom Simple Confessions South of the Border Spent The Brain The Truth The Window Cleaner Transparency Unconventional Diagnosis Unwanted Companion Waiting to Die Wedding Day Memories Weekly Ritual Wormholes Zest Pool City Limit

50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69

2010 Poems: 24 Hours Abandoned Pursuits Background Check Balancing Act Bitter Remembrances Brief Pause Call to Disarm Chance Meeting Cocooned Inside Vastness Death Discarded Disposables Evidence of Prior Occupancy Frustrada

71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 5

Table of Contents, pg. 3 Inquieta Inserstitud Last Glance Left Behind Lost Treasure Love Gone Wrong Open House Opiniones Progression Realidades Confrontando Deseos Recurring Nightmares Singularity Skin, Bone, and Rath Socialite Stranded The Bench The Fire Escape The Gift The Heart The Last Day The One The Stairs Tranquil Moments Tropical Paradise Twice Forsaken Unmet Expectations Victim #199 Victim #299 Wanderers

85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113

2011 Poems: Awake Cycles Early Autumn Late Autumn Perdida de Tiempo

115 116 117 118 119 6

Table of Contents, pg. 4 Perpectivas Rape the Artist Silent Cries Sueños Extraños Undraped

120 121 122 123 124

2012 Poems: Condemned Dawn Dreams I must Redeem Final Exit Interminable Marooned Night Garden 1 Night Garden 2 Night Garden 3 Not an Ordinary Day Padre Bendito Specter The Soul Time Traveler

127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140

2013 Poems: A Family ÷ by 1 A Little Past the Midpoint Absent Minded All I Need Arrived As Slippery as Satin Black Holes Calendar Days Con su Mano en el Bosillo Conversaciones Daydream Departure

143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 7

Table of Contents, pg. 5: Despondent Devotion Disparities Distinct Dumbfounded Equal Portions Equality Every Time I Take a Step Forgotten Gardens 1 Forgotten Gardens 2 Fretting too Much about the Subject Hemos Olvidado el Rio I Am 1 I Am 2 I Am a Dame In Tune Las Huellas de tus Dedos en mis Brazos Left Behind No Time Left No Top Dog for Me One Day One of a Kind Persistent Realities Reality Rubbish Shine Bright Small by Comparison Stalemate Tender Flesh The Bliss of the Womb The Last Hiding Place The Sacred Silence of the Butterfly The Soul’s Last Flight Three Lives Vanished Tu Muerto, Yo Herida 8

155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190

Table of Contents, pg. 6: Two Doors Un Fantasma en Mi Memoria Voyages We Have Forgotten the River

191 192 193 194

2014 Poems: A Ghost of Her A Mother A World Full of Beings A World Full of People Aborted Dreams Another Day in Paradise Call Me Desire Cast Your Net Counting Each Step Dream Weavers Fields of White Daisies Good Night Maya Angelou Happily Married Homage to Love I Am 3 I Am a Woman I Am; therefore, I Breathe I have a Choice In Mourning Knit Yourself the Notion Let the Sun and Moon Accompany You Living Together Melted Glass Mother Mother Earth My Soul Feeds Your Ghost Night Garden 4 No Need to Bow On Being Female 9

197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225

Table of Contents, pg. 7: Rest a While Robin Williams Sadow Land Solutions can be Found Space Travelers Such a Wide Spectrum Take a Stand The Dark Room of My Mind The Marriage Between Good and Evil The Night Flight of the Butterfly The Other Side of Me Thunder and Lightning Time Stops for No One Washed Out You are a Special Child

226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240

2015 Poems: A Ghost of Her 2 Alternatives Fated for Mating Human Woman I Pray, You Pray Lying Beside You Move on The Last Day Worshipping the Goddess You are Gone

243 244 245 246 247 248 229 250 251 252

2016 Poems: Alone with Her Thoughts Alternate Landscapes Bleeding Heart Bury My Ghost 6 Feet Deep Concealed Identity

255 256 257 258 259 10

Table of Contents, pg. 8: Divine Miracles Drowning Every Day Should be Earth Day Homage to 2016 Letting Go Looking at Herself Memorial Day Midnight Bloom New Morning Newborn Love No Room Left in Me One Lifetime Reminiscing Resolution Re-thinking What and How We Think Smoldering Grief The Home of Our Hearts The Past is Always Near Waiting in Vain Weightless When All the Years Melt into One You are, I Am, We are

260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281

2017 Poems: All the Pretty Fish I Am Not God Moonlight in the Deep Ocean Moon Bridge on a Moonless Night Mother Separated Stranded Time Time Travel Underground Temple We are Never Free

283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 11

Table of Contents, pg. 9: What More is there to Know You Lead, I’ll Follow

294 295

2018 Poems: A Light Rain Falls Ancient Footprints Crystal Shackles Dragonfly Wings Human Woman I am Here Spiraling Galaxies The Darkness Night The Place where Our Heart Lives The Scream The World Wilting Beauty

297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308

2019 Poems: Life Cycle Not Long Ago, I Fell Asleep

287 288

2020 Poems: A Place I can’t Recall I am Into the Light No Longer There Nothing Ever Changes Society at Large The House The Jester

291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298

2021 Poems: 12

Table of Contents, pg. 10: As We Age Blue Moon Coral Path

301 302 303

Cosmic Traveler Empty Dream Catchers For as Long as I can Remember Marooned

304 305 306 307

2022 Poems: Back Home Behind the Screen Door Bitter Heart Bundles of Energy without Bodies Cactus Flower Early Morning Early on Sunday Mornings My Dream Evaporates 1 My Flower Garden On Woman’s Day, our Sisters Cry Society at Large The World Crumbles Around Me To See You Once Again Waiting We are Given Life

309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323

2023 Poems: Asleep, Awake Contradictions Four Empty Walls Frightened Souls Who Will Soon Follow

2024 Poems: 13

325 326 327 328

Table of Contents, pg. 11: Behind the Frosted Glass Window One Petal at a Time Surrounded by Pink Flowers The Deep Divide Between Our Choices The Only Path to Holiness The Tears that Flow and the Heart that Beats When I Pause

331 332 333 334 335 336 337

Artworks: Then and Now | Ileana Collazo |Digital Self-portrait Just Being | Ileana Collazo |Digital Self-portrait Frozen in Time, Lost in Thoughts | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Pondering | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-Portrait Washed out Memories | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait When all the Years Melt Away | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait 1969 | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Collage Fading into the Past | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Pretty in Pink |Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Window into My Inner Self | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Among the Flowers | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Self-analysis |Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait The Age of Innocence| Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Reminiscing | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Crystal Blue Persuasion |Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Sweet Sixteen | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self=portrait 2021 Virtual Central Command Station | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Waiting for the Final Truth | Ileana Collazo | Self-portrait The Silence of the Young | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait The Scrapbook of My Mind | Ileana Collazo | Digital Collage Alone in the Garden 7-4 | Ileana Collazo | Digital Collage If I Had Wings 9 | Ileana Collazo | Digital Collage

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Florida 2004

Just Being | Ileana Collazo |Digital Self-portrait 16

A Day in the Life of a Stay-at-home Wife by Ileana Collazo I set my coffee down, and I forgot, doing something else; I don’t remember what.

A pot clanks too loudly when I set it down too hard; The washer spits in my eye when I pull the laundry out too fast.

The phone rang and rang until it got angry and gave up.

A bill collector, the children, my husband; they will call back.

Dinner is ready by eight a.m. although no one will eat it until eight p.m.

I may go to bed before anyone gets home because I am too exhausted to wait until nightfall.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004 Miami, Florida

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Epilogue by Ileana Collazo I do not know for whom I write; perhaps this piece should not be written. this one last selfish act.

I like to watch my thoughts be born, as keys keep ticking.

I have so little time, by choice; things are not right.

I ask again, for the last time: “Where did I come from?

Why was I here?

Where am I going?”

There is no answer.

Is no one there?

Sunday, February 1, 2004 Miami, Florida

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Happy 30th Anniversary by Ileana Collazo Men and women view life, communicate, express emotions differently.

The girl quivers when the boy holds her hand.

His groin aches with desire for more.

The woman daydreams about a candlelight dinner that brings back the memories of that perfect first evening.

The man rushes home to sit and watch the game and curses under his breath at the dimly lit dining room.

The middle-aged wife mourns the loss of her charm.

The middle-aged husband regrets having squandered his youth.

They sit together but distant, eating lobster and drinking wine, or potato salad with soda as flat as their love life.

She does the dishes afterwards, while he flips through channels, reads, surfs the net, goes for a drive.

They are a couple; she is burned out, and he is done with everything.

Their 30th anniversary comes and goes without fanfare while they sit around at home.

She, in her flannel nightgown, he fast asleep on his side of the bed.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004 Miami, Florida

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Here I am, Fifty, and Still a Child by Ileana Collazo Here I am, fifty, and still a child.

Maturity does not suit me.

Regardless of the calendar pages, no matter that the clock won’t stop.

My age, like a bridesmaid’s dress, doesn’t fit quite right.

My daughters outgrew me.

They women; I still a child.

My husband complains about getting old.

My parents are shriveled from too much sun.

Like dry snow that does not melt, grey strands pepper my black mane.

My stuffed animal collection dust, one of my husband’s pet peeves, because they remind him that I refuse to think like him.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004 Miami, Florida

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Life’s Crowded Waiting Room by Ileana Collazo Too many people I once knew are now gone; the preamble of what is to come.

My mother, eighty-three, has all the latest news, They found her sitting on the toilet, dead, where she had been for days; leukemia since her teens, a doctor’s mistake.

They gave her lots of money, but wealth cannot buy health.

Another wealthy friend went on a cruise, her ankle gave way, and to the floor she plunged.

Now, with Lou Gehrig’s disease, she won’t last long.

My father, at ninety-three, is looking spent, sitting on his recliner, watching us come and go.

Unable to intervene, incapable of stopping the carnage, I watch it all unfold, chalkboard and chalk in hand.

I wrote everyone’s name, so when they go away, I can cross off their names.

I wrote my name as well.

Will someone cross me out?

Or will they all assume that I am still around?

Wednesday, May 12, 2004 Miami, Florida

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Los Relojes Nunca Paran por Ileana Collazo Contigo me siento esperando que te vayas, tranquilo, tú estás, como nunca yo te he visto.

Callado, reservado, apagado; pero nunca abandonado, porque vigilo tu sueño, aunque sea un rato más.

Traté todo lo possiblemde esforzar tu viejo cuerpo a hacer lo que no podía mientras me mirabas triste.

No quería dejarte ir, tu suspirabas llamando a tu madre con labios secos, pidiendo que te enterraran.

Cuanto yo voy a penarte, cuanta alegría nos trajiste, los sacrificios que hiciste, tantos besos que nos diste.

Cuando te cierren la tapa, cuando ya no pueda verte, piensas será suficiente para poder olvidarte Nunca, nunca no te frustres, que siempre estarás conmigo; amigo mío de la infancia, cariño mío de mi alma.

Aquí me siento llorando, queriendo parar el tiempo, pero fue tu quien dijiste: “Los relojes nunca paran” Viernes, Diciembre 10, 2004 Funeraria Caballero | Miami, Florida

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My Doll by Ileana Collazo I’ve had a doll since I was very young.

I clothed and fed her until she grew up.

Today, she smiles, talks, and walks; and does not need me quite as much.

She rushed in breathlessly, the other night, closed the bedroom door, and sat by my side, her hands, hidden behind her back, as she cried and laughed.

She has always shared her joys and sorrows, starting with the first picture she colored.

But this is the best news I have heard thus far.

My doll is going to have a doll of her own.

Thursday, May 13, 2004 Miami, Florida

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Non-conformity by Ileana Collazo Non-conformity is the primary conduit of evil that makes men blind and women cry; throwing masses into frenzies that set cities ablaze and smears the landscape with blood.

On a smaller scale, it hides within like a tiny bug that infects civility and spreads from one to many until it becomes a virus that cannot be contained.

Unrestrained, it destroys the fiber that weaves humanity into a blanket that spreads over the world to shield it from the harshness of the vast universe.

Saturday, May 15, 2004 Miami, Florida

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Peace and Quiet by Ileana Collazo I sat in my backyard at dawn, by the sun’s invitation; who had written to me the previous dusk on a wisp of pink cloud that had lingered.

Then, a few raindrops fell on my head, not enough to persuade me to leave.

I just climbed on the highest porch step to sneak under the awning that hangs out enough to shelter me.

But the roar of a motor made me wince, as it ripped through the quiet of dawn and I looked up at the sky to see morning light erase the last grey cloud; wishing that I could muster the courage to confront the intruder who came to replace my peace with all that racket.

Monday, May 17, 2004 Miami, Florida

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Florida 2007

Frozen in Time, Lost in Thoughts | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

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Ariana by Ileana Collazo Tiny fingers tug my skirt, I look down and there you are; “Show me, Bella!” you exclaim.

In your eyes, I see the stars, in a hatbox, we have stored lots of treasures to explore; an old picture from my youth, sheets of stickers for collages.

As you mature, I grow old but see new sights through you.

You amaze me with your wit, with the way you learn so quickly.

In my heart, there is a dent where I carved a place for you, as you grow, that dent will too to always make room for your new wisdom.

Saturday, February 24, 2007 Miami, Florida Dedication: To my granddaughter, Ariana.

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Standing Alone by Ileana Collazo I moved away from home a long, long time ago.

I walk the streets alone, ducking the stare of strangers.

I dare not knock on doors; there are no friends behind them.

I know no one, no one knows me.

I feel like an alien from some distant galaxy, barely accepted yet always suspected.

I travel far to get back home, I knock on doors and meet familiar faces.

I am so changed that, once again, I don’t fit in, barely accepted yet always suspected.

I pack my bags and go back to where I came from.

Why? Ask my family and friends.

Because I reply, I much prefer to be shunned by strangers.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007 Miami, Florida

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Florida 2009

Pondering | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-Portrait

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A Pebble in Your Path by Ileana Collazo I loved you for the things you were, never longing for what you were not.

I cherished you for things another woman may disdain.

In me, you saw a lump of coal, a piece of clay that needed molding.

I listen to your endless chatter, watch your expressions and feel sorrow.

The truth is that you never loved me, I was a pebble in your path.

You picked me up and tossed me one million times before you dropped me.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Absolute Necessities by Ileana Collazo Arthritic fingers make it hard for her to open the seashell box, but her heart urges her on, ready to skip a beat at the sight of hidden treasures.

No matter what havoc time plays on our bodies, our minds remain young.

Memories dance to a different beat than do our feet.

The lid sighs, lets out a faint screech, then gives in.

His handkerchief with his initials engraved in deep blue is neatly folded on top.

She picks it up and brings it to her nose.

So much time has passed that the scent of his cologne has faded.

But not her recollection of it, straightforward like him; plain old, Old Spice.

She keeps a bottle of it in a drawer.

Little by little, she has been discarding those things he no longer needs: his glasses, his keys, his wallet, his hearing aid.

For some odd reason, she holds on to his false teeth, well, she has a good reason.

She keeps them because they remind her of his smile, and because when he lay dying on that too-narrow hospital bed, that was the one thing he asked for the most.

Sunday, September 20, 2009 Miami, Florida 32

Adam’s Son and Eve’s Daughter by Ileana Collazo Stumping around without looking down, not seeing snails, bears, or houses.

Thoughts full of dreams about faraway galaxies, unhappy at home.

Man. Tip-toeing at night not to awaken the newborn baby that was just fed, wiping up messes, brushing tangled tresses, smiling at flowers, admiring the moon.

Silent, outspoken, unlikely warrior wrapped in white silk.

Woman.

Colliding in spaces too small for two, brushing against each other’s bodies sometimes in anger, other times in bliss.

Man and Woman.

Made for each other, Perhaps; one, always angry, the other sad.

One dreaming, the other screaming; one crying, the other cursing.

Made for each other; perhaps.

Thursday, January 22, 2009 Miami, Florida 33

Another Day on Earth by Ileana Collazo I open the curtains, and I see a tired image of me, not ready for the show, not eager to perform, not privy to the script.

I look around, and there is no audience waiting for me.

I do this all for nothing for no one sees me, no one hears me.

I close the curtains, and I walk back to my crumpled bed.

It looks so much like me, if I am quiet and don’t stir, if, faint, I breathe, no one will notice me.

The bed and I will become one, creased, crumpled, lifeless, and inanimate.

Sun rays bathe us, moonlight caresses us, but we don’t feel a thing.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Another Year Rolled by by Ileana Collazo Why do we say, another year rolled by. years don’t roll; they bump, bite, scratch, and scar the flesh.

Recording dates that mark births, deaths, and memories that pass.

They are not our friends.

They’re in cahoots with time.

The two pals work together to sidetrack our minds from death, the time bomb that explodes, grinding our bones to dust.

Saturday, August 29, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Chrysalis by Ileana Collazo Everyone needs a cozy corner, a private space to curl up into.

Everyone needs a little nook, an impenetrable fortress no one trespasses.

It can be built out of anything, with bare hands, a focused mind.

Anything works if a great architect lays out a good plan and sticks to it.

I built mine out of tissue paper I stretched it and stretched it to wrap around my heart until I enclosed myself in a thin, warm cloak that keeps me protected when I am in a crowd, or when the world becomes a menacing dark cloud.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Collecting Dust Particles by Ileana Collazo Sometimes I daydream about sitting on an easy chair near a sunny window in mid-morning collecting dust particles with my fingertips.

It is so quiet that I can hear them colliding moving the air around as they float and fret.

Sometimes I daydream about walking out to the yard, catching a light bug, and sitting on the porch, and staring at it when it gets dark.

Watching it hop inside the jar, bobbing its head up and down, demanding to be let go, demanding to be set free.

Sometimes I daydream that I am inside a room where everything is white and I am the only thing of a different color, and then, a bright light shines, making everything turn red, except for me, and one small fallen star.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Complaisant by Ileana Collazo The washer broke, but the dryer still works.

Should she still believe in miracles?

The fridge’s door stays open a lot, because she forgets to give it three shoves.

Each time she gets paid, she breathes a sigh of relief two days later, all the money is spent.

The bedroom, the only cool place in the house, is used like a cave by her husband and her.

Her back hurts, she is always tired, as much inside as out; so, she gets nothing done.

Her husband complains while she stares at the ceiling, where bright specs of paint shine as bright as stars.

The dogs bark, and she feeds them; they bark again, and she walks them.

She cooks and gets bathed in sweat.

To relieve the heat, they eat sitting up in bed.

Sometimes the dishes get washed, other times they break.

They get put away either way.

Her husband complains again that she has become complaisant, while she looks at the ceiling, takes a deep breath, and wishes for real stars.

Saturday, September 26, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Condemned by Ileana Collazo My fretful sleep, my tangled hair, my vacant eyes give me away.

I cannot hide such obvious things, not even from myself.

The more I ponder, the louder the thunder that rumbles inside my brain making it hard for me to hear myself think all of these years.

It gets no better, it gets no worse, but the prognosis is not good; more fretful sleep, more tangled hair, more vacant eyes, eternal despair.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Daddy by Ileana Collazo Daddy, you went away and left me with the burden of your ways.

You never knew that every step you took I measured inch by inch, and every time you strayed you made me feel so helpless and afraid.

I shivered at the thought of your going away.

I watched, and waited, and fretted, and worried.

Daddy, today I am a shadow on the wall, You're gone; I'm all alone.

No one to watch out for, no one to watch over me.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Dead on Arrival by Ileana Collazo She rushes inside seeking shelter and safety, blood running down her temple, one eye shut, lips swollen and purple.

Dazed and confused, dizzy and breathless, she hears the voices, sees their faces, and slips into darkness.

The siren’s cries muffle her moans, doctors and nurses take her vitals as she fades.

“One, two, three, shock her, one, two, three, shock her; they lost her.

The stretcher is wheeled through a sliding door, several other doors; the coroner points to the last curtain.

Cold and bruised, cocooned by a white sheet, alone she waits; no longer running, no longer hurting.

At the childcare center the director dials a number while two little girls, aged three and five, sit on a couch, holding hands, and waiting.

Saturday, October 17, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Dining at Dusk by Ileana Collazo She is cutting tomatoes and peeling cucumbers on the smooth, cold marble surface.

Her hair, now cropped, no longer gets in her way when she bows her head.

Long, thin strands of spaghetti free-swim in olive oil-tinted water.

She made the spaghetti sauce yesterday because it takes so much time and is messy.

Sundays were created for resting and relaxing, not for wiping red sauce from the stove, the floor, and the counter.

The garlic bread waits in the oven, deliciously warm and rosemary scented.

It is now cool enough to eat outdoors, so she set a lovely table overlooking the inpatient’s bush.

Dinner will be served at dusk, when day and night briefly meet.

Everything is perfect; red wine fills the carafe, and there is silverware for one, because the chair across from her will be empty.

Thursday, October 8, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Duality by Ileana Collazo Love is so strong.

It climbs high cliffs, it treads through mud.

Its viney bushes sneaking into the heart, into the mind.

But it can be like a sandcastle that gets washed away by a wave.

Sometimes a wind blows it away so far, it can’t find its way back.

Friday, September 25, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Emily by Ileana Collazo Emily sat in her room looking out onto the graveyard just beyond her garden gate.

No need for her to venture further than her room, her house, her garden, her world; her pen always moving, her brain working like bees fussing over flowers, butterflies sipping sweet nectar, ladies baking loaves of bread.

Emily captured the world sitting by her bedroom window; painting it for us with words.

Learning more from her small nook than those who travel the planet searching for truth and adventure.

Thursday, August 20, 2009 Miami, Florida In honor of Emily Dickinson, the best poet who ever lived.

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Empty Space by Ileana Collazo There’s a thin line between too much and not enough talking; at work, in social settings.

When everyone falls silent, I shift my weight, cross and uncross my legs, look to each side; hoping someone will speak, as I search my brain for something to say.

I cringe my teeth, for once, I start, I cannot stop.

For if I pause, the silence will return, and I will be to blame.

Thursday, October 8, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Fawn in a Black Forest by Ileana Collazo Hands that caressed her one night hold fast to her neck the next, lips that whispered in her ear twisted as the screams escape.

The gift, once wrapped in rice paper shattering against the wall, a silent shadow in the night, she scoops up its many pieces.

The clock strikes midnight, then one, two, three, four, then five, as she hides fluttering lids for fear he may realize she is drifting off to sleep and his heavy hand will come down hard on her swollen cheek.

Her blank stare of disbelief, taken to be disrespectful, causes her even more grief as his fist crashes against her chin.

Monday, August 24, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Forced Evolution by Ileana Collazo Permanency gives us a sense of security, while change can excite or upset us.

Some changes are good, some changes are bad, too many are harmless; meaningful, or frivolous.

Humans crave change.

We live anticipating.

What will be the next new thing?

When can we toss out that old thing?

Many old things work fine, while too many new ones drive us crazy.

A little scrutiny and judgment would do us well before trading them.

Of course, we never stop to think, much too caught up in the frenzy.

The more we get, the more we want, even if we never use it.

Though thriftiness brings us peace of mind, we constantly trade it for trinkets.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Forward Drive by Ileana Collazo After 40 years of darkness, he steps out onto the path.

The sun shines, the breeze whistles; honeysuckle and baby’s breath form a thick and tangled hedge.

He moves past them without pausing, much, too much, time has been wasted.

He is finally invested in quite a quantitative mission guided exclusively by his vision.

Out of the second floor’s window hangs the limp form of a rag doll, her arms trailing down like creepers, her head draped over the sill; her faded periwinkle dress stained with tiny purple flowers.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Freedom by Incarceration by Ileana Collazo Her hair a tangled mess; her nails soiled and unkempt, ruby stains splattered on her unbuttoned dress.

She walks out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door without glancing back.

No need to rush, not anymore; no need to fear, no one is near.

Behind, she left a pair of scissors, a blood-soaked towel; and her fingerprints on the receiver.

Sitting on the porch steps, she waits, listening for the sirens, looking out for the men in blue, who will be followed by the men in white, who will be carrying the gurney covered with the white sheet.

Peace, quiet, and safety were all that she craved; and for the moment, she has that.

It is a sunny morning, the first one in a long time that she can sit undisturbed, staring at the white and yellow flowers.

A Monarch butterfly dances to her right, this may be the last time she ever sees one.

Friday, September 4, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Legally Bound by Ileana Collazo Contingent upon this agreement, you will always love and honor one another.

Per the specifications of this contract, you will respect one another’s bodies and worldly possessions.

“Oh, Father, forgive this man for his awful transgression And take into your loving arms what remains of this once lovely woman.”

“Wash off all her pain, so that she can start anew with all that is left of her; her soul.”

By her passing, this agreement is dissolved.

For lack of evidence, this woman is buried, and this man is absolved.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009 Miami, Florida

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Lost Soul by Ileana Collazo I walk beside you, but I leave no footsteps; my feet don’t touch the ground.

One moment, one motion, one blow.

Everything went dark, but there was no brilliant tunnel for me to follow.

It was as if I had gone blind.

I groped in the shadows for a while, then, I reached out and found you.

I did not know if I could utter sounds, but did not try to; afraid that you might hear me.

I can’t recall how long it’s been, or know how long it will be; in total darkness, I have learned to mimic you in every way.

You walk, I walk, you sit, I sit, you sleep; I wait.

For what? I wonder.

There are no answers to my questions.

I think it rained today, you walked a while and I followed, but could not feel the raindrops.

Thursday, September 24, 2009 Miami, Florida 51

Monsters Never Leave Forever by Ileana Collazo Monsters never leave forever.

They always return to finish what they started.

The hunted may assume they have vanished, as they grow wilder while away; practicing leaps, filing their teeth.

The wait rendering them restless, hungry, angry; as it daydreams about devouring its prey.

If she does not run when she gets the chance, the next attack may be her last.

Friday, March 20, 2009 Miami, Florida

52

One Million Questions by Ileana Collazo Sitting on a stoop, arms crossed, legs spread apart; looking at the sky all day long, remembering, forgetting.

Nightfall bringing death one inch closer, daybreak making heartache one ounce lighter.

Day by day, night by night, stumbling in a space so vast it makes one gasp.

A tumbleweed, a dandelion, a feather, a human, blown about by the winds of life; crushed to powder by the weight of time.

One million questions flood my mind, with not one answer to be had.

Thursday, August 20, 2009 Miami, Florida

53

Pursuer by Ileana Collazo Anxiety, the very word expels sensations of uneasiness.

It does not just roll off the tongue like benevolence, reverence, or revere.

It grabs the throat, forcing us to skip a breath.

Anxiety has us stamping our feet and wringing our hands under the table to a tune that no one else can hear, as our thoughts clash against one another, and words lie silent.

Anxiety makes us do things like stepping off the ledge to be rid of it.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009 Miami, Florida

54

Sentinel of Doom by Ileana Collazo Evil resides inside everyone’s house, ready and waiting for us to falter; So pleased when we do, so quick to answer.

It is late, it is raining, with intermittent lightning closely followed by thunder.

Amid the sounds of water falling and rumbling rolling, faint whimpers are heard.

It is she, moaning, in pain and shame; from fear and dread, as another bolt crashes.

Other sounds can be heard: shouting, growling, as evil ravages everything it touches.

When morning comes, It is dead quiet, with intermittent sobbing, and the sound of broken glass hitting the trash can.

Monday, September 14, 2009 Miami, Florida

55

Simple Confessions by Ileana Collazo I stayed up all night talking to you, and saw the morning blush because it knows.

We walked under the moon for a short while; the breeze as soft as our first kiss.

Your hand reached out for mine, such a small gesture, but still, my heartbeat fast.

I sit across from you and search your face for something new to me.

I find that landscape so familiar, your lips, your eyes, your chin, your gestures engraved in the corners of my mind.

Yet, still, each time I see you, I fall in love with you again.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009 Miami, Florida Dedication: To my husband.

56

South of the Border by Ileana Collazo 980 degrees, 101% humidity, smog as thick as cold gravy.

Bumper to bumper: cars, trucks, motorbikes, and buses; honking, shouting, and cursing.

Chain link fences jealously safeguard cemented spaces.

No trees, no grass; here and there, a bed of plastic flowers.

Beer cans, courting cigarette butts, and half–smoked cigars shoved inside discarded paper cups.

One man calls out to another, who waves back as he grins and mouths a crude remark to the girl in spike heels and red satin pants.

Friday, September 18, 2009 Miami, Florida

57

Spent by Ileana Collazo Not long ago, I was told by someone I know that everything is about energy, and the exchange of it.

We use our energy to work, and for that effort, we get paid.

We give that money away to buy what others used their energy to make.

To make more energy, we eat what we bought, and the very next day we use it all up.

Like a mouse on a wheel, we go round and round on twenty-four hours cycles.

In time, what we eat no longer serves us, we have nothing to trade for, sitting up takes great effort.

Soup and crackers take the place of steak and eggs, and what is left of us we can’t even give away.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009 Miami, Florida

58

The Brain by Ileana Collazo There’s a small mass I crawl into when I am in despair, it is hidden and safeguarded inside my head.

Though it is small, it holds a lot, a world inside a world.

Dreams, hopes, wishes, fears, dreads, threats filed inside it, side by side, so, I can take one, two, three, or four, to mix and match them to alter my trajectory.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009 Miami, Florida

59

The Truth by Ileana Collazo Breathing in and out; choking on a gulp of air, a drop of water, a crumb of stale bread.

Feeling light, heavy, scared; like running, like dropping to the ground waiting for relief to overpower regret.

The moment we come close to the truth; dreaded, revered, simpler than imagined, we realize that behind it come the doubts that render it so unreliable.

Thursday, January 22, 2009 Miami, Florida

60

The Window Cleaner by Ileana Collazo When he was small, he went to the circus and was mesmerized by the man on the trapeze.

He wondered how it felt to be so high, suspended in mid-air, holding a rope.

His shift begins at dawn; hopefully, it won’t rain.

Especially, not accompanied by thunder; too much sun and humidity are also not good.

First, second, third, fourth… floors done.

Now for the final act, all the way to the twenty-first floor.

People look up and stare at him through the glass; but quickly turn away, returning to their tasks.

No longer thrilled, he reaches for the bucket.

The scaffold tilts, just enough to remind him that, not everything we wish for turns out the way we intended.

Friday, September 25, 2009 Miami, Florida

61

Transparency by Ileana Collazo Writing is what I do, most everything else is what I fake.

Even those who know me well do not really want to know what goes on inside my head, because they are ashamed, because they are afraid, that I will make them face what they all choose to ignore.

Little things like: believing, and living, and loving, and dying.

Little things like: accepting, and denying, and facing, and renouncing.

Writing is what I do, live as if they don’t know is what they fake.

Saturday, September 5, 2009 Miami, Florida 62

Unconventional Diagnosis by Ileana Collazo When I was small I used to think only vampires lived by night and slept by day.

I thought it was fantastic to linger in the shadows; especially on moonless, starless nights, when I could not even make out my own hands.

Now I wonder why I thought that way, now I curse each night and long for each day.

Now I know that there are no vampires, only souls like mine that howl all night long and writhe in pain all day, as our ill brains propel us into the bowels of hell.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009 Miami, Florida

63

Unwanted Companion by Ileana Collazo I have a close companion who follows me around; her first name is Fear.

I know nothing of her last name.

She dresses in the most exquisite muslin gowns; very pleasing to look at, too starched to run my fingers over.

Her braided silver hair reaches below her waist; she’s been around so long, it has had time to grow.

Around her neck she wears a necklace with five silver bells that toll as loud as church bells.

Her nails are long, her neck is too.

Her face I cannot see.

But when her eyes stay fixed on me, a chill freezes my heart, and all my blood runs cold.

Thursday, October 8, 2009 Miami, Florida

64

Waiting to Die by Ileana Collazo Sitting on a stoop, arms crossed, legs spread out, looking at the sky all day long; remembering, forgetting.

Nightfall brings death one inch closer, daybreak makes heartache one ounce lighter.

Day by day, night by night, tumbling in a space so vast it makes one gasp.

A tumbleweed, a dandelion, a feather, a man.

Blown around by the winds of life, crushed to power and the weight of time.

Time.

Who can explain it? Who wants to?

Explanations are the birth mothers of one million more questions.

Thursday, August 20, 2009 Miami, Florida

65

Wedding Day Memories by Ileana Collazo The news arrived, but the groom did not.

Alone, she stands in her satin dress, her trembling hands holding the flowers she carefully chose for the occasion.

She struggles with the words, pressed to rush to his side.

The flowers, no longer for her, must be kept fresh to place on his grave.

He was on his way to her, a few blocks away, now he is headed where she can’t yet follow.

The room is cold; he lies bloody and lifeless.

She holds his left hand and slips the ring on.

It takes some effort; his hand is purple, stiff and cold.

His lids were shut before she arrived, his blue eyes, a memory she fiercely holds on to.

Her head on his shoulder, she hums the love song they would have been dancing one hour ago.

Monday, September 14, 2009 Miami, Florida

66

Weekly Ritual by Ileana Collazo The medallion of a brass crab stuck onto a sand dollar awaits me by the door.

I wore a baseball cap to avoid the stares and keep the raging sun from scourging my bald head.

I always walk the ten blocks, and then get a ride home because, in there, they zap all my strength.

It has become my ritual, I walk, lie down on the stretcher, then go home and wretch.

I am sicker of it than sick, but everyone is rooting for me, so I press on to the finish line.

We have two different realities.

They see me triumphant, my hair grown back, and I see me dead.

Are they lying to themselves, or are they doing it for me?

Of little consequence, time will tell us the truth.

Inside my body is an army fighting a battle that is hard to win.

The enemy troops have spread to all the major posts, taking possession of too many stations.

First, the doctor took this out, then he cut that off.

I have no more left to give.

I bow to the crab; it does not bow back, too focused on climbing up the wall.

Stuck, like me, with nowhere to go.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009 Miami, Florida

67

Wormholes by Ileana Collazo One backward glance, and a flood immerses me in thoughts, some good, others too painful to re-live.

Overcome, I run away, but quickly stumble, and they smother me.

I summon tears to wash them off, they stain the harsh cement.

But when distracted, I look up at the sky, they quickly slither up my spine and borough into my brain again.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009 Miami, Florida

68

Zest Pool City Limits by Ileana Collazo The homeless finally drift off to sleep, lulled by the humming of trucks washing the streets.

Club music sips through the cracks of half-closed doors, and out the windows of the few cars on the road.

As the Moon and the Sun execute their daily trade, a girl in a short skirt holds on to a light post; heaving and retching, while her friend sits on a bus bench.

Hairs matted, one’s heel broken, the other’s scuffed; cell phones stuck to their ears.

Ring, ring, no answer.

Where the hell is everyone at 5:00 a.m. on a Tuesday?

A taxi cruises by, and they flag it down, climb into the back seat, and pass out.

Friday, October 2, 2009 Miami, Florida 69

Florida 2010

Washed out Memories | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

70

24 Hours by Ileana Collazo One day of my life; insignificant, enormous.

Deducted.

Ponder, wonder, worry; do, undo.

With whom, where?

Dreams, nightmares; inability, disability, over-analysis, paralysis.

Conversations, dissertations; restless, sleepless, brooding, fretting.

Assessments, re-instatements; 24 hours gone.

Thursday, July 8, 2010 Miami, Florida

71

Abandoned Pursuits by Ileana Collazo A river of honey slithers down a mountain; a bear follows it, but does not dip its paws.

Bees flutter over it like swirls of smoke; swaying and swooping, but not plunging into it.

At the foot of the mountain the honey coalesces into one long, thin sheet of amber.

The bear veers off into the woods; the bees, one by one, scatter.

A few feet away, around the bend, the amber ledge drips into a honey lake.

Wednesday, May 13, 2010 Miami, Florida

72

Background Check by Ileana Collazo I exhale, they analyze my breath, and prosecute me.

I stain my thumbs.

They collect and file my prints.

I pose, they take three photos of my tear-stained face.

I am marked. officially tossed into their pool.

I walk, they drive by and ignore me.

I am angry, they pass me by, shrug at my misfortune, I shoot a man, they check my background, and condemn me.

I die at noon, and they record the time and forget me.

Thursday, June 11, 2010 Miami, Florida

73

Balancing Act by Ileana Collazo We take it so seriously, this thing called making a living.

Acting as if we’re doing something so everlasting.

I have yet to hear about one of us lasting forever.

The concentration, the consternation, the competition, the disagreements; as we all fight to succeed, intent on being the best.

But when it comes to dying, there are no overachievers.

No push and pull for first place or reaching the finish line.

There must be a balance between doing and being, running and pausing, gasping and breathing.

There must be a bridge between loving and being; between getting and giving, between living and dying.

A bridge we cross with careful steps, our pace, neither fast nor slow, so that our timing is always on point.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010 Miami, Florida

74

Bitter Remembrances by Ileana Collazo Falling in love is automatic, but falling out of love takes time.

The shirt hanging in the closet, almost falling off the hanger.

Water glass stains on the table, stacks of books, read and discarded.

All signs of that other person who has gone but has left traces.

He took his love to re-use later; recycled goods are most welcome.

The resentments he left behind, for they are easy to remake.

Words that stung like fire coral, echoes of shouts that have faded; tear stains on half-empty pillows where two sleeping heads once lay.

Broken dreams fight broken dishes for space in the garbage can.

His toothbrush waiting to join them, and you refusing to toss it.

It is one thing to discard mismatched socks and worn-out t-shirts, but the toothbrush is one thing that makes it all much too final.

So, you wake up each new morning to that toothbrush next to yours, and wonder if he bought another.

Whose toothbrush sits next to his now?, Is it pink, red, or green?

Is there dried toothpaste stuck to it? Does she like the taste of mint?

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dishes followed by silence.

Tears and sobs mixed with resentment; one last look at that toothbrush.

Off to bed with restless monsters that bite your neck until daybreak while you dream, toss, and turn, calling his name with drowned whispers.

Sunday, May 23, 2010 Miami, Florida

75

Brief Pause by Ileana Collazo Here I stand, inside this skin, which covers these bones that ache and creak when I stand up.

The same skin that once fit tightly but now sags.

The same bones that once stood straight, but now bow.

Here I stand with eyes half closed and a half-open heart that waits for things that will never be.

Flowing through time, disheartened, as it rains, turns sunny, gets hot, gets cold; while I blink, and blink, and blink.

Blink away tears that keep coming; bump against the years that push me further and further away into some dark corner.

Until the day that I fall hard; all skinless bones and tearless eyes.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010 Miami, Florida

76

Call to Disarm by Ileana Collazo Everyone, stop walking in circles.

Mother Earth does it, but we are not meant to.

If I were in charge, I would command everyone to stop and take a deep breath, disarm and embrace beauty, forget all they learned from rulers and clergy.

Begin again, with a brand-new perspective rooted in peace, love, and kindness.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010 Miami, Florida

77

Chance Meetings by Ileana Collazo In a moment, this moment will be gone; to chase it, I would have to reverse time and let whatever else comes my way slip by.

All those things that I could be if I wait for their arrival would turn into dust and water.

Still, I so much want to catch this moment.

The light is mellow, the air is cool, my skin feels so soft to the touch.

What if those things don’t arrive?

What if this moment is my last?

Too late, I watch it take flight while I sit and wait with hope and dread.

Sunday, May 23, 2010 Miami, Florida

78

Cocooned Inside Vastness by Ileana Collazo My lungs sniff the air and recoil, my tongue tastes the soil, and I smack my lips.

I am in a corner of this universe.

My lungs sniff again; my lids close, then open.

I touch nothing but feel something.

I’ve got plenty of room to wiggle, but I huddle.

It has turned dark where the sun shines, and light where the moon is covered.

Am I alone? I sense, presume, and assume.

I ponder, wonder, my hands and feet at rest.

A sudden jolt, and I am off again.

They pass me, I pass them.

It is now bright where the sun shines, and dark where the moon is covered.

Stars come loose from the sky and float away falling, falling; but never landing.

I sit on something hard that suddenly turns soft.

It swallows me but does not smother me.

I breathe, I shout, I laugh, I cry, I fight to free myself, but then I give up.

In darkness, I still see the sun shining, the new moon now hovering, the stars floating, as I, safely tucked inside this softness, drift off to sleep and wander.

Friday, May 21, 2010 Miami, Florida

79

Death by Ileana Collazo Death is a fascinating subject; its threats and promises allude and delude, persuade, and repel.

Its charm lies in pervasiveness, tenacity, illusiveness; in its obsessed lover’s passion.

It takes us as we fight to stay, grips our throats as we gasp for breath, as our lungs explode with rage.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010 Miami, Florida

80

Discarded by Ileana Collazo After you left, I sat for hours breathing. it was neither noisy nor quiet; just empty At times, the sun rays slanted a certain way, bringing back times when you and I sat talking.

I’d hear your mellow voice, but could not make out words.

When sudden breezes touched me, it was your hand I felt.

It has been years since then; my face remains tear-stained.

I often sit and wait, but you do not return.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010 Miami, Florida

81

Disposables by Ileana Collazo I am the receptacle that holds women of a certain age, uteruses removed; breasts amputated.

First princesses, then queens, then tarts; discards.

Away from the light, shoved inside a closet along with their lace panties.

I, bottomless, they lifeless, melded into one solid lump.

The old days are gone as new weeks and months stroll by.

No words are heard; silence only broken by the rain.

Buckets fill and overflow, pendulums swing till they drop, princesses stroll; queens sit on their thrones.

All in due time will fall, and when they do, more will come.

Saturday, May 22, 2010 Miami, Florida

82

Evidence of Prior Occupancy by Ileana Collazo I stood naked in the dark in front of the mirror, your handprints glowing everywhere.

When I turned on the light and moved much closer, I saw your face reflected in my eyes.

A sip of water tasted like your lips, the pillow took the shape of your bent arm; the place where my hair ruffled through the night for all the time we lived as one.

It’s been so long since I last heard your voice, that the silence has cracked from dryness.

The warmth of your last breath against my ear, now hovers like the smoke that escapes the ashes after a fire dies late in the night, and nothing much is left to save or claim.

Thursday, June 17, 2010 Miami, Florida

83

Frustrada por Ileana Collazo No me gusta que me digan lo que hacer, pero los pobres tienen que escuchar, bajar la cabeza y obedecer.

Los trabajos me aburren, pero el dinero me amarra, las palabras me llaman, pero el tiempo me falta.

Contenta no estoy, cansada estoy siempre.

Una soga transparente me ala por el cuello; si me muevo me falta el aire, si camino me ahoga.

Pasa un día, pasan dos; una semana y un año, y aquí me encuentro atrapada.

Boca cerrada, ojos abiertos, para que crean que atiendo las cosas que no me inspiran mientras mi mente desecha las cosas que otros inventan.

Dandole gran importancia, pretendiendo que yo entiendo lo que no me dice nada.

Jueves, Julio 22, 2010 Miami, Florida 84

Inquieta por Ileana Collazo Habro mi boca y salen palabras mi mente no procesó.

Habro mis hojos y veo las cosas muy diferente que otros las ven.

Camino, me siento, como, me acuesto; lo hago todo día tras día, pensando, esperando.

Algunas veces tengo miedo, otras, tengo esperanzas; pero no puedo olvidar, ni comprender, ni aceptar.

Las religions no me conforman, conversasiones no aclaran nada.

Aquí me encuentro contando días.

Hasta el momento no he hecho nada que deje huellas cuando me vaya. ¿Qué puedo yo, que sé de nada, dar algo que no está ya dado?

Granos de arena volando al viento, mi inerto cuerpo cubrirán Mi clara mente se apagará, mis mil preguntas se callarán.

Tal vez entonces todo se alpaca, y con simpleza se encuentra paz.

Lunes, Abril 12, 2010 Miami, Florida

85

Insertitud por Ileana Collazo No hay amenaza the huracán, pero el otro día un maremoto arrasó en otro lado lejos de mi y yo sufrí por esa gente que nunca he visto.

Al poco rato, mi sufrimiento se convirtió en agradecimiento.

Pensé en las vidas perdidas, las casas destruidas, los autos desbaratados, los sueños defraudados.

Cerré los ojos, y vi mi familia, mi casa, mi carro, mi jardín.

Por el momento todo está bien, no perfecto, pero tranquilo.

Pero mañana es una sorpresa, esa otra gente puedo ser yo.

Mi vida, mi casa, mi auto, mis sueños; son temporarios, sin garantía.

Pero por hoy, el sol salió, y esta noche es luna llena.

El mundo viaja tranquilo; pasando estrellas, llevándome lejos.

Y yo, observando el universo, pasajera sin pasaporte, me amarro bien el cinturón y fijo mis ojos en el Cielo; buscando señas de la llegada, esperando llegar al paraíso.

Sábado, Abril 3, 2010 Miami, Florida

86

Last Glance by Ileana Collazo I set my clock by your love, I blinked and breathed to your rhythm.

No matter what your lips sent flying, my ears caught white doves.

I told myself time spent with you was the most precious.

I ran inside; the light was low, I went to you without a pause.

I did not see the smooth, cool blade, just felt the sting, and when you held it in your hand, blood smeared grey; I saw a rose for me.

Thursday, January 7, 2010 Miami, Florida

87

Left Behind by Ileana Collazo I sat in my room late afternoon listening to my spirit’s faint steps.

It walked in a circle that widened and widened until it softly grazed the walls.

It then began to trace its way back until it reached its starting place.

I wondered what it would do next: return to me, stay put, or pace.

I let out a breath to clear some space it leaped and fled through the half-open window.

I followed it as best I could, but without wings, I was left behind to wonder how to live without it.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010 Miami, Florida

88

Lost Treasures by Ileana Collazo Sounds are lost treasures that fly in the wind, leaving us wondering where they will go next.

Springs murmur tales of trips through the woods, crickets sing songs on long summer nights, musical notes caress lonely hearts.

Monday, June 17, 2010 Miami, Florida

89

Love Gone Wrong by Ileana Collazo I crouch on the edge, trapping each whimper in my throat, knowing I should not fall asleep while my heavy lids flutter.

I hear steps as it approaches.

Its shadow slithers, growing.

My pain and dread are intertwined; unlikely lovers moaning.

I cannot tell which one is worse; the waiting, or the moment when giant claws crisscross my flesh and I see bare teeth gleaming.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010 Miami, Florida

90

Open House by Ileana Collazo Open all the doors, let everyone in.

The beds are not made, the dishes are plastered with yesterday’s meals.

The floor is not swept, and the toilet bowl has a green and orange rim.

The windows are broken, and the door locks won’t turn with the keys.

The fridge door is broken, and the stove top is smudged with spaghetti sauce.

The termites are mating, and the dogs in the corner are covered with fleas.

The walls’ paint is peeling, and the cracks on the wall serve as speedways for roaches.

The vase on the table is filled to the brim with half-wilted roses and yesterday’s rain.

Friday, May 21, 2010 Miami, Florida

91

Opiniones por Ileana Collazo Cada uno de nosotros representamos un mundo; cada cerebro una casa privada.

Miramos, escuchamos, compartimos; pero no comprendemos como los otros piensan.

Por eso tenemos guerras, pequeñas en nuestras casas, tremendas con otros pueblos; terribles y desastrosas.

Todo esto hacemos porque no comprendemos que todo eso ocurre por las opiniones.

Tu tienes las tuyas, yo tengo las mías; cuando conversamos, el más guapo gana.

Martes, Mayo 11, 2010 Miami, Florida

92

Progression by Ileana Collazo Dishpan hands that age too soon, brittle and prickly to the touch, cannot caress like they once did when fingernails were painted red.

Silver strands cropped behind the ears do not obey the brush and comb as those free-flowing ebony threads that took wild rides on summer breezes.

Forgetfulness precedes regret, while remembrance courts dread that memory will muddle before the last breath flees.

Thursday, July 29, 2010 Miami, Florida

93

Realidades Confrontando Deseos por Ileana Collazo Me siento en la silla, las ruedas resbalan, me muevo hacia adelante, de nuevo se escapan.

Tengo mucho que hacer, pero no hago nada.

Ocho horas que rellenar como el pavo el día de gracias.

Tantas cosas mejores me esperan, pero mi monedero a contar me llama.

Como una cueva, pequeña y oscura, cuando está vacía y abandonada.

Como un pozo con flores en un día feriado, cuando le pongo dinero; el menudo sonando como las campanas de la vieja iglesia anunciando la misa.

Lunes, Mayo 11, 2010 Miami, Florida

94

Recurring Nightmares by Ileana Collazo There are two of you and one of me; and this causes me grief.

Your face hardens, your eyes narrow, your lips curve.

It happened again.

You no longer see me, you are mesmerized.

You smell of burnt flesh, your fists hold crushed bones, your eyeballs look dead.

Growling and cursing, you snarl at me, and this causes me grief.

One day passes, then another, I wake up scarred; you, unaware.

Then, soon, the cycle starts again, and this causes me grief.

Saturday, June 5, 2010 Miami, Florida

95

Singularity by Ileana Collazo The ocean is teeming with living things, many of whom look the same to me.

Black cats abound, as do blue birds, and snails that crunch under my feet.

But humans all seem different, as much inside as out.

This fact creates so much anxiety that we struggle hard to contain it.

Herding works for other animals, but humans don’t react in the same way.

We created institutions to promote equality and calm anxiety.

Churches, clubs, sports teams, secret societies; where we are expected to chant, applaud, and shout with elevated souls and transfixed eyes But as we sit, stand, kneel, or crouch melding with the crowd; singularity calls out; trying in vain to stand out.

Monday, June 7, 2010 Miami, Florida

96

Skin, Bones, and Wrath by Ileana Collazo I barely remember; my mind has wandered far.

My thoughts disconnected; my brain dejected.

I am the only one left from the aftermath.

Walking up and down the path without intention or direction.

Lonely and sad, I search; uncertain that I want to find another in my same state.

Not far ahead, I see a light; a momentary flash that too soon dies.

Another spark; they don’t excite me like they once did when there was hope.

They are remnants of the initial boom when everything ignited and all but me exploded.

Such agonizing pressure I felt then, but for some perverse reason I cannot explain I remained whole.

I am the sole survivor of the aftermath; skin, bones, and wrath.

Thursday, July 22, 2010 Miami, Florida

97

Socialite by Ileana Collazo It is essential to belong and imperative to fit in, for, society is unforgiving.

Its dues are due each day, first thing when we climb out of bed.

The face we put on, the clothes we wear, the car we drive, the food we eat; it’s all under inspection without discretion.

Someone I’ve never met wrote all the rules of etiquette.

Don’t scratch that itch, don’t cross that leg, sip instead of slurp, shut off that stare.

Exhausted by day’s end, I scratch the itch, stare out the window, and tack the gum I’m done chewing on the wall.

With the world one door away, and no one to impress, my bare bottom rests on my tattered easy chair.

Friday, May 21, 2010 Miami, Florida

98

Stranded by Ileana Collazo One inch from the edge.

I cannot bring myself to take one backward step.

I should be committed, but no one knows.

I glance into the abyss, and my stomach churns.

I hear drums roll far away. they stop and start again.

My ears perk up as the wind comes near, but quickly runs away.

I have the vaguest feeling, but I cannot grab it.

My worn-out sandals slip, my red bandana flees, and slaps a passing bird.

I screech; the bird mimics my cry.

I’d laugh, but can’t, and I don’t know why.

Night falls, an owl howls, and I shiver.

How long will I be here?

Was it three centuries ago that I arrived?

I wait in vain to be returned, but no one comes.

It is so strange.

I sleep, awaken, I do not eat or drink, and never feel the need.

Friday, June 25, 2010 Miami, Florida

99

The Bench by Ileana Collazo There is dust on the furniture, but the sun is out, and the orchids are in bloom.

My bare feet flatten the moist grass as I make my way towards the back; away from the house and all its demands.

I hear chirping to my right, but cannot find the source.

The coral fountain gurgles.

I reach the end, where I have placed a bench against the tall brick wall.

The bench is drenched, I squirm, then settle into it with ease.

This bench was made for me, in another place where I have never been.

My loyal friend, it always waits for me to keep it company.

Thursday, July 8, 2010 Miami, Florida

100

The Fire Escape By Ileana Collazo On a moonless night, it lingers in the shadows, between the buildings; not quite touching the ground.

On a stormy day, it sways to and fro; challenging its hinges to give way.

A park bench for the lazy, an entryway for lovers; an eyesore for some, a hiding place for others.

Painted black; it serves as a planter, a place to put garbage, a ledge to be leaned on.

Such a plain structure, with so many tasks, the least that it does is to save someone’s life.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010 Miami, Florida

101

The Gift by Ileana Collazo Its petals smooth, its stem prickly; my hands, stained yellow from its pistil dust.

Slightly slanted toward the sun; its leaves a flurry from the breeze scurrying through the room.

A pink so pale it mimics white, its scent so subtle from afar cajoles my nose when I come close inviting me to close my eyes and dream of secret gardens past.

This single flower in a vase, sent to me yesterday at dusk to mend a wrong that can’t be sewn with a thread so thin; because the rip was long and deep.

In a few days, I will remove it from this, so narrow, source of life and find a book I will never read to bury it so deep that I will not come upon it and think of you again.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010 Miami, Florida

102

The Heart by Ileana Collazo The heart can expand as wide as the sky, as deep as the ocean, when it hears its call; a flute playing, wind chimes clattering, rain falling, love words whispered.

It has so little time to process each nuance.

Its primary job is to keep on ticking through joy, through grief, through tears, through laughter.

When it finally stops, it lets out a sigh as all its emotions take flight.

Thursday, May 13, 2010 Miami, Florida

103

The Last Day by Ileana Collazo A single note permeates the air.

No perfume scent lingering there.

A pause, another flute cry, a feather flutters down onto the dusty road where rain can’t follow.

Merciless sun scorching all green; boiling down the stream.

I reach for a marigold, its petals fall as my lips crack.

Thunder announces rain, the sky erupts into a wail.

Drenched and scorched I walk, then run, and stand under a leafless tree.

The stream grows and overflows, scooping me in its cool arms, taking me far.

With my last breath, I sigh, as my lungs fill with fluid.

I glance up at the sky, look up at the rising sun, and wonder why it took so long.

Friday, July 2, 2010 Miami, Florida 104

The One by Ileana Collazo I walk through tight spaces, perch on thin ledges, dream without sleeping, breathe between phrases.

I am the one you are afraid of, who neither feigns nor prays, but spits out thoughts and bites through bones.

My hands are full of air, my eyes can see through walls, I make you cringe and squirm.

My presence spooks you as I pose the questions and plant the doubts.

When you lie down in darkness you dream about me, when you wake up and face the sun it is my shadow you first see.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010 Miami, Florida

105

The Stairs by Ileana Collazo Each step made out of cool, hard cement; perfectly measured so they all look the same.

Their wide lips adorned with a row of red bricks, between each one tucked a straight line of white clay.

It’s railing sculpted out of black iron, its landings as wide as small patios.

An architectural marvel; unique in design, yet, like so many others, scaling upwards in increments, always firm on the ground, as well as Skybound Tuesday, May 11, 2010 Miami, Florida

106

Tranquil Moments by Ileana Collazo There is an unmatched beauty in an early morning when everyone else is bustling about and I am standing still; removed from everything.

The sun, as soft as a kiss on the cheek, the air cool and dry, dew clinging to the grass.

The whole day lies ahead, time crawling slowly by, reluctant to advance.

Could the whole world have stopped?

It may as well have, because it has for me, and that is all I need.

Friday, July 9, 2010 Miami, Florida

107

Tropical Paradise by Ileana Collazo It is only 10:33 a.m., but the heat is starting to boil, The sun is baking the soil, and the wind chime is silent.

I sit and breathe; I sit and wait for a gust of wind to cool me, a storm cloud to bring rain.

I wait in vain.

The sky is perfectly blue, the sun hangs perfectly round.

The leaves are so still that they look like cut-outs.

I sit and breathe; I sit and wait, then, hear the wind chimes announce the breeze.

The leaves sway as they dance, I hear birds chirping; then, the stifling stillness returns.

I sit and breathe; I sit and wait; longing for autumn, daydreaming about winter.

Knowing it is only spring, dreading what the summer brings, more breathing, more waiting, and hurricane warnings.

Sunday, May 9, 2010 Miami, Florida

108

Twice Forsaken by Ileana Collazo I sit by your deathbed holding your hand; praying for you, crying for me.

I buried her three years ago, you filled that awful void.

I felt the guilt, but lived the love, willing to brave the stares.

She left; you came, and each day I grew less somber.

Now you decide to go and join her, two blows, two losses, boiling inside my gut like your simmering stews.

You leave, and you forget; I stay, and I remember.

The mourning I had pushed aside will flood my life with your exit.

The house is empty, the bed forsaken; the stove cold, my heart frozen.

No breasts to cup, no lips to kiss, no hair to run my fingers through.

Could you have waited a bit longer?

Why did you leave so soon?

I try to feel your pain, but my pain smothers me.

Which grave should I cry over?

Where do I place the flowers?

I cannot bury you with her, I cannot split myself in two; alone again, I find myself more bitter than the first time.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010 Miami, Florida 109

Unmet Expectations by Ileana Collazo Last night I stayed up eating grapes and drinking wine; the grapes were sour; the wine was bitter.

I chose not to turn on the computer, the television, or the CD player; I just chewed slowly and drank.

There was no moon, I saw no stars, the sky was wrapped in a dull grey.

I leaned against the table leg, the floor felt cool against my legs.

I sat like this for many hours hoping that it would come to me, that one life-altering idea that makes the world halt on its axis.

It never came.

The sky was a pale blue.

The sun highlighted he bowl of grape seeds and the empty wine bottle.

I rose, undressed, and plopped onto my bed -more tired of than tiredto sleep the day away.

Friday, July 9, 2010 Miami, Florida 110

Victim #199 by Ileana Collazo I stand so still, afraid to move each step I take may be my last.

What lies ahead is indelible as I strive to change my course; a sense of urgency forewarning me.

But fear grips my gut as blood sips from my swollen lips.

The darkest cloud engulfs me, my bruised cheek stings, my limbs betray me.

The sky becomes my shroud, with not one star upon it; the moon as far as dead dreams.

I feel so far away, yet, I have barely moved.

It is all else that has?

I should have run, or crawled, or fought; but it is now too late.

The pain that ravaged crossed the woods has found me as I lie helpless in a heap dressed in white, and red-stained.

Monday, June 14, 2010 Miami, Florida

111

Victim #299 by Ileana Collazo Sleepless nights crouching, long sleeves in summer, sunglasses past dusk, purple skin blushing from an anguish so deep that it smothers the anger that would prompt the reaction to propel the action.

Exhaustion, delirium; no fever, no cough, just marks and abrasions that stain and degrade.

No time to waste, no energy left; curled up in the closet behind storage boxes smothering sobs; eye fixed on the door, one moment of dozing disturbed by one gunshot.

Thursday, July 29, 2010 Miami, Florida

112

Wanderers by Ileana Collazo A while ago, I cried for the world, for all the things we think it is but is not; for all its broken promises.

For fertile grounds grown barren, ocean beds turned into coffins; for me, for all of us.

Our brain stems searching like roots, the world rotating on its axis; around the sun, dragging the moon, bumping against the black wall that keeps stretching and expanding.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010 Miami, Florida

113

Florida 2011

When all the Years Melt Away | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

114

Awake by Ileana Collazo I open my eyes each morning, but feign sleep.

Wipe blood from my chin and apply lipstick.

Eat shredded pride three times a day, sip from a cup and swallow glass.

Today I stayed in bed, eyes closed, awake.

No lipstick, no pride, no glass.

Just me, silence, and light.

Monday, March 7, 2011 Miami, Florida

115

Cycles by Ileana Collazo Minutes fall, raindrops of time, never collected in buckets or basins.

Burrowing deep under the ground, waiting for me to join them.

Weeds grow in grass, hands pull them, their seeds drop, more follow.

My seeds sprout but I wither, forgotten and deserted.

Monday, February 14, 2011 Miami, Florida

116

Early Autumn by Ileana Collazo It starts slowly, a nip in the air, shorter days.

As we go about our days burst of yellow, orange, and red intertwine with green and the landscape becomes a kaleidoscope of colors that entices us to follow nature paths littered with leaves that dance about in the wind.

Cozy buttoned-up coats, earmuffs, scarves, boots, and gloves keep us warm while our cheeks and our noses turn crimson red as we stoop to collect fallen leaves, we will press in a book we just read to remind us of autumn when winter arrives, and tree branches stand bare, 2011 Miami, Florida

117

Late Autumn by Ileana Collazo Walking on dry leaves scattered by the pond that smother the ground and crackle like a bonfire.

Hands in my coat pockets, snug and warm, boots and socks soggy from the half-frozen soil.

Long, desolate road snaking to and fro, obstructed by a boulder shaped like an ancient cavern.

In silence, the sun rays squeeze between bare branches; The only sound I hear is my heart sending out signals.

Monday, March 14, 2011 Miami, Florida

118

Perdida de Tiempo por Ileana Collazo Me monto y me bajo, me monto y me bajo, sesenta veces en una hora.

Miro a la izquierda, a la derecha; abro la boca, la cierro.

Me concentro, me descarrillo, me siento, me levanto.

Desesperada, disgustada, que el tiempo pasó y no hice nada.

Febrero 11, 2011 Miami, Florida

119

Prespectivas por Ileana Collazo Parada en esta esquina me encuentro, la lluvia inundando mis zapatos, los truenos aterrando mis oídos; ni sola, ni acompañada.

Carros paran en luz rojas, arrancan en luz verdes, se roban las amarillas; me ven, me ignoran.

Hombres, señoras, niños que lloran, por porquerías; que saben ellos.

Las noches son tan largas, el piso está tan duro; toso y escupo sangre, pero, carajo, no muero.

Me faltan cuatro dientes, al Diablo, ya no sonrío; me baño en cualquier lavabo, como basura con peste.

El otro día vi un arcoiris, un cielo azul con nubes blancas; la hierba verde brillando estaba con gotas tan perladas.

Mi corazón abrio su puerta, mi mente se puso clara, el mundo se puso bello; de él estoy enamorada.

Friday, Abril 22, 2011 | Miami, Florida 120

Rape the Artist by Ileana Collazo Rape the artist, she does it for love.

Talk her down to half the price.

Spend more on the frame than you did on the painting; rape the artist, she does it for love.

She sits on the floor, smeared with paint, sweating and brooding, dreaming for you.

You never asked her to; she rants by choice.

Rape the artist, she does it for love.

You have guests over for a fancy dinner, you show off her piece; everyone loves it.

She stays up all night, mixing her colors, chewing stale bread, and drinking cold coffee.

Monday, June 13, 2011 Miami, Florida

121

Silent Cries by Ileana Collazo I am a woman kept apart from the rest by a fence of ideas.

I bathe in ponds of thoughts that scribble themselves on my skin, and crawl through my ear into my brain.

I speak in misunderstood tongues, syllables scratching the walls of buildings not yet erected; naked and dejected, I cry like a swallow.

I count ten fingers, I close my fists, nothing inside them but the rage of a bird inside a cage.

Wings torn, beak scratching against corn; not hungry, just bored not thirsty, just scorched, waiting, just waiting.

Monday, February 14, 2011 Miami, Florida

122

Sueños Extraños por Ileana Collazo Rojo, azúl, y verde, tres campeonesen conpetencia con un creador.

En la pared colgando esperaun blanco limpio de lino tenso.

Asustado, embarazado; luego embarrado por brocha en mano que no habla claro.

Marcas ilusas, sueños extraños y diambulantes, buscando casa.

Lasgrimas secas dejan sus huellas en ese lienzo que nadie mira.

Por la mañana la misma mano que lo embarró lo asesina.

Un bagabundo buscando alberga encuentra un trapo, y sobre él se acuesta.

Viernes, Febrero 11, 2011 Miami, Florida

123

Undraped by Ileana Collazo Hide under my wide-hip skirt where no one else can see you, digging trenches in my thighs with blood-tainted fingernails.

Gasp with rage, exhale contempt, spew obscenities, spit out semen.

Acting like the gift of manhood grants you rights and title.

Strut in the dark and crouch in the light; bury the truth you can’t admit.

One day, I will tear off your hiding place, let the wind take it, and watch you cry in shame.

May 2011 Miami, Florida

124

125

Florida 2012

1969 | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait Collage

126

Condemned by Ileana Collazo Crawling down a road as wide as angel wings, bursting into flames extinguished by the rain.

Such sorrow as I have never seen, once king, now enslaved.

Crawling into a cave infested with worms praying, for the unseen and the unheard.

Shouts, whimpers, bloody tears, savaged flesh.

Chew your meal well, and take that one last sip; for, later you’ll be parched.

Monday, June 25, 2012 Miami, Florida

127

Dawn by Ileana Collazo I walked the beach alone at dawn, the low tide clinging to the shore.

My footprints, jagged on the sand, threading a rope behind me.

The few birds scouring the rocks for bits of flesh from broken shells did not take flight as I approached; their hunger overpowering dread.

The soothing sound of breaking surf, replaced by total silence, except for gusts of wind bumping against the sea grass.

I had no cause to walk alone, or leave my bed at first light, other than witnessing the sight of one more day arriving.

Saturday, April 28, 2012 Miami, Florida

128

Dreams I must Redeem by Ileana Collazo Dreams I must redeem before their time is up.

A carousel ride in spring, an ice cream cone, a rose, a dose of something bittersweet that stains my tongue and makes me cringe.

The space inside my head has windows without walls.

The doll I cherished long ago sits in a box.

Her bonnet crooked on her head; her two glass slippers lost.

The sun is asleep, and I awake; I stare up at the sky.

The moonless, starless night so quiet, I can hear my breath.

Monday, June 25, 2012 Miami, Florida

129

Final Exit by Ileana Collazo Cross the threshold one last time, silent and serene, unattached from anything that bound you.

There will be tears, but they will not be yours, for you are now unencumbered.

All those debts, paid and unpaid, the unresolved quarrels, the silk dress ruined by the wine. you’ve left it all behind.

The house dark and somber, the shutters drawn in mourning.

The morning light won’t stir you.

Where you once stood and sat, dreamed about love and fortune, where children played and slept, no longer suits you.

You crave a narrow space where no one else can reach you, where you will spend the hours suspended in oblivion.

Friday, August 31, 2012 Miami, Florida

130

Interminable by Ileana Collazo Even though I am a crone slipping off my sagging throne, you still love me.

Balancing my crooked crown on dilapidated brow scarred by frowns.

Maroon lips that once were pink; dry slits for breaths.

Thoughts that wander and return from endless dead-end roads; memory’s ghosts.

Hand in hand we feel the murmur of our hearts like crackling embers.

First the dawn, and then midday, too soon ends another day.

Thursday, January 26, 2012 Miami, Florida

131

Marooned

by Ileana Collazo I did not save myself, I lay, half-drowned, on this arid shore that dried up long ago; gazing at a sky full of clouds with no promise of rain, and no tears left.

Forever is a long time, when there is no hope, no future, no redemption.

To question the meaning of it all is meaningless in this vacant lot.

To scream in rage when there is an echo only makes pain more redundant.

No strength, breaths, barely whispers, that make no commotion inside the chest.

Tongue dry, thoughts twisted, into brittle vines that break each time I blink.

How could death pick me up and drop me without a thought or care?

It visits me each dawn, brushes my lips with wine, fills a cup with cool water, and drinks it while I thirst.

Saturday, July 14, 2012 Miami, Florida 132

Night Garden 1 by Ileana Collazo One minute past the hour, dusk by darkness devoured, as silence speaks the unheard words.

Be still, and listen, as a petal falls; its scent lost as the flower mourns, and a bird hides in the tangled bushes where a star is hanging from a purple flower.

Sunday, October 21, 2012 Miami, Florida

133

Night Garden 2 by Ileana Collazo At pre-dawn, in my garden; where I often go to ponder and wonder, I wrote three words on a patch of fog, and the rising sun burned them to embers.

I blew a kiss into the wind, and a passing bird inhaled it.

I tossed a rock into the pond, and it sank to the bottom instead of skipping.

I then stood still, barely breathing, not giving up, just waiting.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012 Miami, Florida

134

Night Garden 3 by Ileana Collazo Those winds that straddle summer and fall, winter and spring —plucking leaves and caressing flowers— envelope me in satin robes that slip and fall as I stroll through the garden.

The night exited by my company, I, humbled by its omnipotence.

Together we pace; leaving tread marks on the underbrush, urging our shadows to mimic our trajectory.

Sometimes the moon, directs its beam, studding us in silver; others the stars sprinkle white crystals that dazzle and amaze us.

But on those moonless, starless times the night and I are closest, for it is then that our souls shine their brightest.

Thursday, November 8, 2012 Miami, Florida 135

Not an Ordinary Day by Ileana Collazo The spider weaves, a tree drops a leaf, silence sleeps.

The dew clinging to the grass dries out in the morning sun before the storm clouds form.

Not an ordinary day; none of them are.

Though nothing has gone awry, women pray kneeling in church pews, heads bowed.

The wind arrives uninvited, more leaves fall, a moth gets caught in the web.

No rain falls, but the sun goes away and nothing shines until the moon arrives like a pearl button in the sky that makes one sigh.

My eyes close, the world vanishes; twenty-four hours have passed.

Each glance averted, each breath not taken, cannot be redeemed or claimed.

Saturday, September 1, 2012 Miami, Florida 136

Padre Bendito por Ileana Collazo Vivo la vida jugando manos con cartas que tú me has dado.

Algunas gano, aplausos y besos; muchas más pierdo, bochorno y desprecios.

Tanta amargura por una manzana que cae al suelo y se pudre.

Eres un hombre; una mujer no despreciara lo que trajo al mundo.

No me arrodillo a pedir perdón porque no he hecho nada, nacer no es un sacrilegio, tú me pusiste en el mundo para sufrir y entretenerte; no te comprendo.

Qué triste eres si vives solo creando ángeles que apuñalas.

Tu me amenazas que un día vendrás a rechazarme por no alabarte.

Que pasaré la eternidad en la fogata llena de escombros de los que te negaron.

Si yo te acepto cuando yo muera iría contigo a ver tus actos, a ver aquellos que haces sufrir como me hisiste sufrir a mi.

Si rezo un día será por algo que tú no quieres; por un silencio y oscuridad que me protejan tanto de ti como del diablo.

La gente dice que yo estoy loca diciendo cosas que me condenan, yo les respondo si tú eres tú ya sabes todo lo que yo pienso.

Si eres mi padre, tengo el derecho de hablarte claro y pedirte cuentas.

Debes tener paciencia y darme las respuestas.

Nunca pedirme que sea ciega cuendo me diste ojos, o esparar que sea sorda cuando me diste oídos.

Y no callar si tienes boca, para aplacar mis dudas.

Jueves, Septiembre 20, 2012 Miami, Florida

137

Specter by Ileana Collazo It is as if I never left, all the bad things still hang here cluttering the air.

Satin-lined drawers spilling with spite, red stains in my brain.

Echoes of shouts, specters of doubt mingling with pain.

If I could have felt disdain, I might have saved myself, but love got in the way.

Love exchanged for rage leaves no space.

Waiting in vain, I stood, sat down, lay on a thorny quilt.

Torn skin, gashed soul, bled out heart.

Walking away would have spared me, but I remained inert.

Now, set aflame, guts diluted, I smolder in the dark.

Sunday, July 15, 2012 Miami, Florida

138

The Soul and Other Everyday Miracles by Ileana Collazo My soul has all the colors of the rainbow, For, I am nature.

Gold like the sun, pearly like the moon, shimmering shades of blue that sparkle like the dawn-kissed sea, emerald strokes that sway like wind-blown grass inside my breast, and shades of purple, pink, orange, and red as soft as petals clinging from their stems.

My soul, if it indeed exists, sings with the brightness of creation.

Saturday, May 5, 2012 Miami, Florida

139

Time Traveler by Ileana Collazo A walk can be short or long.

From the chair to the bed, from the car to the shore.

Long steps, short steps, cement, and gravel; a pause breaks the cycle.

Linger and watch, as fingers fidget, and time slips through a vacuum.

Start and stop, stand and sit; lie on the bare mattress.

The sound of birds ruffling their feathers drowns in the surf.

The light of dawn swallowed by dusk lets out a silent scream.

Dream of walking by a stream, as fans of ferns sway in the breeze.

Wake to sounds of soothing strings that fade like the wind.

Monday, June 25, 2012 Miami, Florida 140

141

Florida 2013

Fading into the Past | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

142

A Family ÷ by 1 by Ileana Collazo × causes elation, + empowers the whole; a fortress, built strong rejoicing in the laughter and commotion.

Creating the notion that there is power in numbers, unity, and devotion.

Comfort in affection, while stacked up like dominoes, we stand shoulder to shoulder until one steps away, and the rest tumble helplessly; scattered and mismatched.

Thursday, March 7, 2013 Miami, Florida

143

A Little Past the Midpoint by Ileana Collazo Straddled a little past the midpoint of my life; youth pushing from behind, old age pulling my arm.

The calm before the storm that will drag me through the mud of dismay and disarray.

The end meanders as I prod the possibilities of things to come once there’s no more.

A sleep so deep, devoid of dreams, a calm that thunders without sound, with many more like me around.

To think of this for long destroys the fibers of the mind; the ones that catch realities in flight.

I might take a walk down a winding shore, a grassy meadow, or a waterfall.

They will remain when I have gone, while I join the ones that left before, and sit and wait for more to come.

A secret garden is what I crave; a hidden place where no one else can find me.

Where flowers still grow after I’m gone, and my soul comes to tend them.

Saturday, April 27, 2013 Miami, Florida 144

Absent Minded by Ileana Collazo Cracked skin for lack of cream.

Gaping hole in her right coat pocket.

One shoe too tight, the other too loose; they are a pair, but she’s a mismatch.

Squinting in the sunshine, squinting to read, hair matted; teeth rotted.

The roll of money in her left pocket forsaken, forgotten; its edges worn from being fondled.

Back home, more bundles lined up in drawers; rubber-banded and stranded.

Each day, she walks to the river’s edge to eat breadcrumbs with the pigeons; then falls asleep on the wooden bench until the sun makes its exit.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013 Miami, Florida

145

All I Need by Ileana Collazo Retain the essence, but give up all else; refrain from choking on unspoken words while the greedy leave a bloody trail as furious and persistent they claw the dirt searching for lost dreams.

Patient and subdued, I sit and wait, knowing they will soon give up the search, and leave as empty-handed as they came.

Then I’ll cup my hands and drink the rain, feast on dandelion greens and mushrooms, and lie down for a while in the meadow.

Saturday, April 13, 2013 Miami, Florida

146

Arrived by Ileana Collazo Brought into this world, unlearned and undressed; arrived before noon, tear-stricken and hungry.

I took my first breath, howling with anger as a giant hand spanked me for no reason.

Then, warm water soothed me, a blanket brought warmth, two arms gave me comfort, two breasts calmed my thirst.

Asleep in a cradle with blinding lights glaring, I dream about the ocean, and floating in darkness.

Thursday, February 28, 2013 Miami, Florida

147

As Slippery as Satin by Ileana Collazo There is a layer, as slippery as satin, tucked in between myth and reality; where verities are written in numinous languages and murmured by sages guided by spirits who shake the resolve of those who doubt, and fill with awe the open-minded who are captive by the present, and enslaved by the past, eagerly reach out for hints of a future obscure and insecure, daunting and alluring; yet closer each moment.

A corridor spanning from here to eternity is beaming with visions we each have concocted as a half-forgotten path leading back to conception is littered with tales that morph and confuse us.

2013 Miami, Florida

148

Black Holes by Ileana Collazo Sitting on the porch, arms crossed waiting for what will not come; wrinkled hands, once smooth and soft, grey hair flowing like star dust.

Praying things will not get worse, knowing they will not get better.

Thoughts meandering at dusk, soon returning to my head.

Who knows what would have been best?

Missed chances driven away by unrest; perhaps for the best, for, hope’s well runs deep, but its steps are too steep.

Thank God for sleep, when the voices in my head make up stories that replace all those daydreams gone astray.

Saturday, October 5, 2013 Miami, Florida

149

Calendar Days by Ileana Collazo If there are holes in the ozone layer, why can’t there be holes in my soul?

Dry riverbeds in my brain, loose threads on my tongue?

I mourn days gone by; held together by thoughts that memory files away in drawers with locks.

I scratch the blackboard of my past with shredded fingernails, looking for things the present has erased to make room for what it brings.

Today is always in a hurry, dressed in pink and gold; ready to go.

Tomorrow, dressed in black, arrives while I am dreaming; pushing me out of my bed, urging me on with such haste.

Friday, April 12, 2013 Miami, Florida

150

Con Su Mano en el Bolsillo por Ileana Collazo Tarima llena de porquerías que yo he creado y nadie ha comprado.

Sentada me encuentro, rodeada de extraños que caminan, se sientan, hablan y comen.

Yo no comí por no gastar dinero, ni caminé por no perder ventas a diambulantes que me ignoran.

Casi a la hora de cerrar una mujer con un niño que no podía estarse quieto me preguntó por el precio de una cajita pintada con rosas; cuando le dije, quedó anonadada y en su momento de susto, dejó el niño abandonado.

El ruido lo hico llorar; el pobrecito asustado, porque en el suelo en pedazos habían un montón de piezas que ayer yo había pintado.

Sin pedirme ni perdón, levantó el niño del piso, y se perdió en el gentío con su mano en el bolsillo.

Llo me quedé boca abierta, caja en mano y mala cara; al menos si no vendí nada, no tengo que cargar tanto.

Abril 2013 Miami, Florida 151

Conversations by Ileana Collazo I talk, but I am not good at conversation; that dance of words between two people where one stops, and the other picks up without a pause.

I stumble and fall over the other person’s words; dust myself off and quickly fall again.

My tongue seems disconnected from my brain, as babble drips from my lips and I remain dumbfounded by my chatter.

When it finally ends and I am alone, I feel the need to vacuum my brain to clean out all the splattered phrases that collided and died before being born; those excellent ideas left untold that no one cares about, except for me.

Monday, March 4, 2013 Miami, Florida

152

Daydreams by Ileana Collazo You would have liked the buttercups scattered around the clover field; I’d pluck them often and then feel as if I had too often sinned.

I’d lie them gasping on the grass, and turn my head much too uncaring; my thoughts elsewhere.

Lavender growing here and there, the sun rays bouncing off their blooms; faint sounds that barely reached my ears getting entangled with my breaths.

An undercurrent, barely palpable, brushing my face like wind-swept feathers; making me blink.

Why think?

The world laid out before me, the past tucked in between my dreams; and my heart beating till it stops.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013 Miami, Florida

153

Departure By Ileana Collazo Pressure applied from everywhere.

Tentacles crawling up my spine gracefully dancing the death rhyme.

Breathing constricting in my chest, words pushed so tight against my breast; the taste of metal on my tongue.

As light blue turns a muted grey, I look again to see a cloud a shade of pink that too soon fades.

Not cold or hot, no breeze that strokes; familiar sounds have all left.

There is no space left to reach out to, there are no arms to hug myself; only a vague, persistent feeling that, like a bird, I search for branches to rest my weary soul.

Sunday, March 24, 2013 Miami, Florida

154

Despondent by Ileana Collazo I saw her standing by the stairwell, hair cropped, hands in her pockets; poised to go, headed nowhere.

A strange gleam in her eyes, liquid silver streaking down her cheeks in two straight lines.

The sun, a giant hot plate in the sky about to turn its back on her domain, setting the clouds aflame.

Leaning on a pole, back straight; no glass of wine, no cigarette, no desire to fret.

Too quiet inside, too noisy outside; with hours to count before bed, and not one familiar face.

Moonless night, and stars that tread an endless carpet of black while she turns her back on them and slams the door on the world.

Saturday, April 27, 2013 Miami, Florida

155

Devotion by Ileana Collazo It is between the lines that we can read the stories; it is in the brief pauses that we can find the meaning.

The tales that best tell, are those that paint the scenes with colors that enslave the souls of the blind readers.

To pass on what is felt with such a fierce devotion that echoes with each word and makes the reader tremble, brings tears to dry eyes, parts lips in silent prayer; that is what words can do when written with emotion.

Thursday, February 28, 2013 Miami, Florida

156

Disparities by Ileana Collazo I write and eat leftovers from someone’s party, who likes my work but won’t pay for it. someone who makes a lot of money making concoctions that prevent erosion.

I was invited to read some poems; my paintings lined up behind me.

What an amazement, the guest of honor, painter, poet, writer, and sculptor.

Everyone wants to shake my hand, and make some comment about my work.

Back in my attic, all but forgotten, painting and writing, sculpting, and dreaming, until the phone once again rings, and I am off to another soirée.

Sunday, March 3, 2013 Miami, Florida

157

Distinct by Ileana Collazo To stand alone is not a feat as daunting as standing among people who see through who you are and judge you for things you are not.

Explaining things to those who choose to listen only to themselves creates a vacuum in the space that swallows all you try to say.

Turning your back is rude, they say.

Turning my back is wise, I think.

For looking into vacant eyes rips portions of my soul in shreds.

The world is full of empty spaces, a portion of which I will claim to find the room I need to grow without the threat of getting hurt.

Friday, March 1, 2013 Miami, Florida

158

Dumfounded by Ileana Collazo At birth, we get pushed out.

When we die, our souls float to heaven.

In the meantime, we do our best to stick around.

I never met a faithful soul in a mad rush to get to heaven to be blessed with the boundless riches of a blissful afterlife.

But they are quick to sanction tongues that ask the obvious questions; warning them of impending doom for doubting what is sacred.

Don’t fret about this life, the best is yet to come.

Eternity awaits us; have faith in what you’re told.

When I look out my bedroom window, each day when I awaken, I stand in awe watching the miracle of one more day unfolding.

I wonder, then, if they’re mistaken, and this is paradise, which they all fail to recognize because their greed has blinded them.

Monday, March 4, 2013 Miami, Florida

159

Equal Portions by Ileana Collazo Split down the middle, artist/poet; blood on the canvas, blood on the paper.

Appease me, release me, with courage and wit; with dribbled paint and spat words dripping from surfaces, crawling on my skin; the room as cold, as it is dim.

A makeshift stage on which to dream, and cry, and scream.

So prim, in the yellow apron with two pockets full of pens and stains.

Two hats with feathers and one crowded brain that drains and strains.

Two buckets filled with murky water; one crammed with countless dirty brushes and the other with drowned dreams.

Thursday, March 28, 2013 Miami, Florida 160

Equality by Ileana Collazo If you can do it better than I, go right ahead.

If you have room for more than me, pack it all in.

Do it for you, do it for me.

Get it all done before noon, while I drink coffee and fret.

I heard the Pope quit, if he can do it, I can too.

We will both sleep in.

You run your life with intent, make a dent.

I’ll drag my feet through the dirt; make a mess.

When we’re undressed on the table, with a toe tag as a label; gutted and stuffed to preserve us, we will both look the same.

Monday, March 4, 2013 Miami, Florida

161

Every Time I Take a Step by Ileana Collazo Is there still time for me to see all those things I missed that passed me by, all those things I chose to overlook like the skipped pages of a book I barely read?

I got the gist of it, I think, but all those missing links mutated the language it spoke, and bled the colors from the scenes of every thought written for me.

The rubble is piled too high, mixed with all those other things that do not belong to me.

There is no way to regress, the road disappears behind me every time I take a step.

Saturday, April 27, 2013 Miami, Florida

162

Forgotten Gardens 1 by Ileana Collazo The hallway leads to a narrow yard where blooms are watered by windswept tears.

The steps that lead to the wooden door carpeted thick with feathery moss.

No one has sat on the cold stone slab huddled besides the dry water basin where no birds have drunk for over a century, and no water lilies float on its surface.

The sun and moon race by on their way, leaving no traces of their too-short stays.

The sound of the wind howling in the distance slipping through branches to join the silence.

Sunday, November 24, 2013 Miami, Florida

163

Forgotten Gardens 2 by Ileana Collazo One water lily drowning in the pond, staring at the sky, wishing it could take flight.

The clouds that hang from the blue so blue looking all the whiter by comparison.

The water, cold from the pre-dawn rain, making it shiver as drops soak it through.

Purple, yellow, green, melting away, as a newborn bloom takes its place.

Dilapidated beauty sinking to the bottom, while taking one last look at the bright morning sky.

November 24, 2013 Miami, Florida

164

Fretting Too Much About the Subject by Ileana Collazo It seems as if time has shredded me into so many pieces that I’m scattered in every corner where I have laid my head.

Not yet dead, just sometimes breathless and deflated until it feels that way.

But I don’t know how death feels, or how I may feel once I’m dead.

The finality of the fatality, the solemn lack it brings.

Sometimes I think I fret too much.

I put a flower in a vase; it will be wilted by the end of the week.

I watch a butterfly take flight, to live for just one day.

Each day I repent, for wasting time when time is so finite.

But nothing carries meaning not even my beginning when I arrived, took my first breath, opened my eyes, and met the world.

Saturday, April 27, 2013 Miami, Florida 165

Hemos Olvidado el Rio por Ileana Collazo Hemos olvidado el rio que solloso triste viaja por orillas desgarradas arrastrando los sancochos cocinados por los barcos que lo escupen mientras pasan.

Aogandose en los deshechos que han destruido su fondo; dejándolo desolado.

Las aguas que lo rellenan un fantasma de su gloria, su boca que besa el mar robada de su belleza.

Domingo, September 29. 2013 Miami, Florida

166

I Am 1 by Ileana Collazo I am a blinding star that shines by day and sleeps by night.

I am a wildflower that blooms in sunlight and curls up when it turns grey.

I am a drop of morning dew that feeds a single blade of grass.

I am a dream that floats away When winds blow clouds astray.

I am all that and nothing else; for time claims all there is.

As I dissolve into a haze the color of pale hay.

Thursday, February 28, 2013 Miami, Florida

167

I Am 2 by Ileana Collazo The world around me moves too fast.

I am its axis, as far as I know.

Still, I stand, thinking of all the rhymes, and all the songs that I long to set free.

If I step aside and let everything fly by wrapped in calendar pages written by sages I’ll lose my step and fall into a vacuum, and I won’t get the chance to ponder why the sky is blue, then black, rain falls out of the clouds, then goes right back, death follows birth until it catches up, the flesh, once so resilient, turns to dust.

Here I am, crammed inside this shell that sometimes seems too small, others too large; a barge that drags me down the river while I whine as jagged rocks scrape me from inside.

A river that runs red for some time, until it dries and I become unknown, and someone else takes up where I left off.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013 Miami, Florida

168

I am a Dame by Ileana Collazo It is for me that each clock beats to the drowsy rhythm of some ancient rhyme I can’t recant.

To time I grant the privilege of leading me astray to some ancient bay where I sit and wish for things I cannot name.

I am the dame who speaks in strange tongues and cries brine collected in the basin of an ancient sea that birthed all life and me; then spit me onto the land and left me dry outside and wet inside; reversing me, confusing me.

Today I walk over grass and gravel; curved spine, crooked teeth, chewing overcooked meat I’m made to swallow, but would rather spit, as I pray to nothing call out to no one, feel no relief, whine, and frown.

2013 Miami, Florida

169

In Tune by Ileana Collazo To live each hour, day, week, month with some vestige of decorum; a sense of purpose and validation.

To strike a deal with oneself to do, not ask, to ask, not fear; to hold each moment near.

To look into the vast and still, to listen for the silent tears from those who tread with unsure steps.

Not to diminish, but to hear what in their whispers they confess, and face-to-face tend to repress.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013 Miami, Florida

170

Las Huellas de tus Dedos en mis Brazos por Ileana Collazo La sonrisa que llevabas en los labios, se borró cuando volviste a enfrentarme. ¿Qué camino tomaste al dejarme?

Te busqué pero no pude encontrarte.

Dejaste las huellas de tus dedos en mis brazos, tu perfume entrelazado en mi cabello.

Tus palabras que volaron en el viento y regresaron como truenos a mi oído. ¿No era suficiente tu desprecio? ¿Tenías también que dejarme en las tinieblas?

Con tu crueldad has borrado las huellas que con tu amor trasaste en mi alma.

2013 Miami, Florida

171

Left Behind by Ileana Collazo I sat in my room in the late afternoon listening to my spirit’s faint steps.

It walked in a circle that widened and widened until it softly grazed the walls.

It then began to trace its way back until it reached its starting place.

I wondered what it would do next, return to me, stay put, or pace.

I let out a breath to clear some space, but it leaped and fled through the half-open window.

I followed it as best I could, but without wings was left behind to ponder how to live without it.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010 Miami, Florida

172

No Time Left by Ileana Collazo We’re at an impasse; you gridlocked, I incensed that no truce is in sight.

I pace the floors of this house, instead of heading out.

I am absolved from trying to change your mind; its rusty pistons grinding with such spite.

I leave sorrow behind, the future pulls my hand, there’s no time for the past.

Sunday, April 28, 2013 Miami, Florida

173

No Top Dog for Me by Ileana Collazo If I were the only dog, I would get walked six times a day, stroked every hour on the hour, fed at the dinner table with them.

The sofa, the chair, the bed would all be mine all the time.

No competing while playing fetch, no more of being outbarked, no fighting to walk out first.

Every puddle on the floor, every poop my human stepped on would be mine without question.

The broken vase, half-eaten sandwich, the torn-up newspaper, would all have my name engraved on them.

So, after a bit of pondering and repeated contemplation, I have concluded without exception; dog packs are a dog’s best friend.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013 Miami, Florida

174

One Day by Ileana Collazo To live one day like a butterfly, to blink away a tear and have it turn to glass.

Hands overflowing with salty water that drench an inch of sand.

By chance, I find myself at the shore at low tide watching three seagulls fly, and one dive.

A flawless sky hanging above me, soft, warm Stardust under my feet, I make my way to the rock pit where brackish water has collected, and taken on a golden glow as ripples form around the crevices where broken shells lodge at high tide.

Thursday, March 28, 2013 Miami, Florida

175

One of a Kind by Ileana Collazo It is a crime not to be ordinary; punishable by shunning and snubbing.

An open mouth that lets out words that makes others fret; it needs to be shut down.

A pair of hands that clap when silence is expected must be tied with wires that inflict puncture wounds.

A pair of ears that listen to sounds that trigger motion must be drummed to deafness until they bleed in puddles.

A rebel heart that beats to whispers only it hears inside its secret cavern, cannot be heard by others.

Sunday, March 3, 2013 Miami, Florida

176

Persistent by Ileana Collazo Retain the essence, but give up all else; refrain from choking on those unsaid words.

The vain and repressed are both the same; oozing elixirs that leave blood red stains.

Maimed by choices and fate - lame and unkempt uncertain about what is to come; conformed with dreaming about unconquered thoughts that lead to winding trails at the edge of the woods they dare not venture out for fear of wolves.

And yet it is there that a precious few have found all the riches promised in their youth.

I, tired and weary, keep stopping for spells, but, stubborn and angry, they refuse to give in to the rules implemented for those without brains; preferring to risk the wolves in the woods, than those who conceal themselves dressed in wool suits.

Saturday, April 13, 2013 Miami, Florida

177

Realities by Ileana Collazo Hungry people steal, hungry souls kill; blindness does not usher darkness, the refusal to see does.

No drought is as devastating as scorned eyes that have gone dry when raging hearts crack down the middle, and there are no pools left to drink from.

The sound of thunder drowns the spoken words and shouts that echo in the caverns where thoughts are often scattered.

A leaf that falls in summer while all the rest hold tight, becomes the wing that flutters when summer breezes sigh.

Sunday, March 3, 2013 Miami, Florida

178

Reality by Ileana Collazo The sky above my head disguising that eternal black, caressed by clouds on their way to other corners of the world; holding the promises of God sitting on deep, carved golden thrones with open arms for weary souls.

Twenty-four hours for each dream, twelve awake and twelve asleep; silent, I pace each dawn and dusk welcoming and bidding goodbye to hours measuring my time, dragging me through the dirt and sand, skinning my knees, wrinkling my skin until I turn to dust.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013 Miami, Florida

179

Rubbish by Ileana Collazo Words escape through gritted teeth that should have been left unsaid.

Eyes as smoky as a cloud bursting with the rest.

A hand gestures in dead space, dead because no eyes can see it.

It is neither dark nor light; but as pale as a grey slate.

The heart sitting in the chest, like a bird afraid to flutter, clatters as it scrapes with the spirit as it frets.

No one is taking command of the actions or the jitters, and as it matters, go unchecked, it all unravels and upturns.

What is left?

But nerves and veins as mismatched as just-washed socks that cannot be paired?

Left in a bin in the corner, thrown in the trash in the morning; a marionette without strings, a puppet without its owner.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013 Miami, Florida

180

Shine Bright by Ileana Collazo Stump on the rat scurrying behind the wall, nibbling on the cheese, you later eat.

Leave your imprint on every eye that sees you, then dance with the fallen star that almost made it.

He will make the best date, but don’t mate; frustration leads to corrosion that erodes his devotion.

A nation full of those does not account for much, but it only takes one to mess things up for everyone.

Prancing in the new suit, which doesn’t fit quite right; which he bought at the dollar store for a dime, he drinks wine and di while the rest of the world cries.

Monday, April 15, 2013 Miami, Florida

181

Small by Comparison by Ileana Collazo Small I am when compared to the vastness; the space that stands between time and me.

Small is a dime when placed beside a plate; so vast is the span between the two circumferences.

Small is a mountain when seen from high above; like a mound of dirt that a hand could crumble.

Sunday, March 3, 2013 Miami, Florida

182

Stalemate by Ileana Collazo Devotion causes erosion.

Erosion causes destruction of the fiber of the self.

Sewn with rope threads; first knotted, then unraveled and windswept.

Blown to a spread as wide as a dinner plate; to be served like spaghetti.

Blood red mush on the plate; three-day-old stalemate.

Swept away again, no silver spoon, into a bottomless bin where the cycle begins again: devotion, erosion, destruction; stalemate.

Sunday, March 3, 2013 Miami, Florida

183

Tender Flesh by Ileana Collazo The onion skin that wraps my heart is so thin that each beat sighs when it is stroked.

It is not fingers that it senses, but sounds that drift underground to surface hot like a breath.

Their ghosts take flight; torn-up sentences that bounce off walls and off mountains, but leave redundant and rampant images that won’t erase.

Then, in a haze, my heart is glazed.

Like horses leaving a prairie, to settle back in their stalls, my heart beats slowly in the silence found in the valley of thorns.

Thursday, March 28, 2013 Miami, Florida

184

The Bliss of the Womb by Ileana Collazo Love makes us high, life makes us sigh, reality makes us miss the bliss of the womb.

Float, fret, eat, sleep; I do that now, without the buoyancy, darkness, or warmth.

Tight shoes cause calluses, tight skirts constrict, and large crowds make me flee.

The ocean breeze can make me weep, a riverbed prompts me to tread its winding shore to find the mouth of its birth; the waterfall that sings.

I dream awake, I hear a siren, and fear that someone is near death.

Monday, March 4, 2013 Miami, Florida

185

The Last Hiding Place by Ileana Collazo The last hiding place is gone, I hear the horns and I mourn for peace and civility; for an overthrown throne with no queen.

No matter how fast I run, no matter how low I stoop, the underbrush can’t hide me as my silhouette on the ground draws a map for hungry hounds that follow too close behind.

No time to eat or drink, or think or pray A drum beats inside my head, where all my thoughts are dead.

While my heart beats at the pace of horses galloping on the plane.

No dreams left, no audience waiting, by the stage of my life’s play.

Monday, April 15, 2013 Miami, Florida

186

The Sacred Silence of the Butterfly by Ileana Collazo Silence is the sacred space where thoughts are born and nurtured, where dreams are free to stretch and grow, where everything around us takes on a special glow.

Where love and grief sit side by side, comparing notes, crossing each other’s boundaries, stitching a scented quilt of sweet forgiveness.

Silence is the narrow path we tread when the whole world explodes like firecrackers and our hearts yearn for holiness and wholeness.

Sunday, September 15, 2013 Miami, Florida

187

The Soul's Last Flight by Ileana Collazo Is it wet grass I stand on, or the soft down of dead birds?

I heard a chirping sound as I slipped through a veil of haze.

So light I feel, and yet, the weight of forsaken thoughts sits upon vague fragments of memories too soon forgotten.

I sense an emptiness that only longing fills for those I crossed last night en route to someplace else.

I have arrived, I know, nowhere that I have been.

There is no place to sit, there is no need to stand.

Is it so dark because my eyes no longer see?

Or is it just so bright that my heart and soul went blind?

Wednesday, March 27, 2013 Miami, Florida

188

Three Lives Vanished by Ileana Collazo Flung onto the hard, cold ground on a frost-bit night; my womb slashed and emptied of the life I nurtured.

Refusing to follow the light, for I have no wish to meet, he, who mercilessly crushed what he created.

My lover and I, and our unborn child, crash, clatter, fire; now, nothing else matters.

What could replace the emptiness felt when three lives are extinguished on a dark, lonely road?

An omnipotent being choosing its victims with careless whims of indifference.

I’d much rather rot in spirit and flesh in this lonely grave than have my soul rise to meet my murderer.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013 Miami, Florida Dedication: To the couple who died in a car accident, and to their baby, who survived a short time before following them to the unknown.

189

Tu Muerto, Yo Herida por Ileana Collazo Tú muerto, yo herida; nadie alrededor nos mira porque cogidos de mano, finjimos estar enamorados.

En una esquina que brilla, encharcada por la lluvia, alumbrada por la luna, tiraste lo que di.

Mi juventud y mi vida, las dos ahora perdidas; mis ojos claros nublados, mi sonrisa encajonada.

Nada te puedo pedir, nada tu me vas a dar; lo nuestro se ahogó en el mar.

Yo, soñando, caminé, millas por la areana seca buscando lo que quedó para enterrarlo en la cueva, pero cuando salío el sol, manos vacías regresé, con el corazón rozando cada piedra que crucé.

Sunday, Abril 21, 2013 Miami, Florida

190

Two Doors by Ileana Collazo I want two doors; one to walk out through, one to walk in through.

With a lock on the second door to keep me inside and everyone else outside, and a room with an easy chair, and a clear mind to think about those things.

Those things?

Don’t whisper, don’t whimper, don’t pray.

No matter what stands at that door, it is not coming in.

Minutes and hours slip through the keyhole; I coax them away.

Suspended, insulated, accelerated, awake, asleep, surrendered; a mind elated.

Incarcerated; the keyhole rusted, the key half bent.

Wondering, worrying if the first door is still shut.

Sunday, March 3, 2013 Miami, Florida

191

Un Fantasma en mi Memoria por Ileana Collazo Que gran sorpresa el verte ahora, tan cerca de mí.

Quisiera tocarte, pero no me atrevo.

Mejor nos quedamos, yo aquí, y tu allí, mientras la noche duerme y yo dianbulo despierta dentro de un cuarto sin puertas, atrapada e inerta, en el circulo vicioso de un pasado que existío forsado por mi; quien creía en ti.

En todas las circunstancias, renuente a ver la verdad.

El pasado, ahora Muerto, no responde a mis preguntas; tú, un fantasma en mi memoria, yo arrastrando mi inocencia.

Sunday, Abril 21, 2013 Miami, Florida

192

Voyages by Ileana Collazo A second is a universe created from one breath; a minute, a blink that blinds us with its speed.

A portion of a day; history written by a wind that blows away all that took place.

A week, a month, a year; decade upon decade piled high into a heap so deep it makes us weep.

Aborted, discarded, mishandled; missions embarked on abandoned.

Travel on foot only takes us so far, machines, too little further.

It is not until we remain still that we journey the furthest, for only the mind is boundless.

Saturday, April 27, 2013 Miami, Florida

193

We Have Forgotten the River by Ileana Collazo We have forgotten the river, quietly sobbing as it makes its way down the cluttered shore.

Its water dragging poisoned brews concocted by the passing ships that leaves it gasping and depleted.

Choking on stews from gurgling pipes that settle on its dying bed.

The mouth that fed it long ago, a shadow of its distant glory, the path that leads it to the sea deprived of nature’s beauty.

Friday, September 20, 2013 Miami, Florida

194

195

Florida 2014

Pretty in Pink |Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

196

A Ghost of Her

by Ileana Collazo Sea glass and brass sit on the shelf while she drinks her tea, and the half-drawn curtains squeeze a slant of sunlight honey milk.

Each gulp she sips makes her squint - lemony sting purple lip, black eye, bleeding heart.

A ghost of her sits by her side arms crossed; eyes fixed; waiting to ask.

She turns her back and hums a sad song.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014 Miami, Florida

197

A Mother

by Ileana Collazo A mother is a woman who once was a daughter, who once was a child, who once was an infant.

Who started as an embryo created by two.

A mother is an object of love and affection resentment and rejection; a person of sorts.

Not always seen as human, but rather as a reflection of all that spells perfection and sacrifice.

All giving and forgiving, pious and understanding, never the least demanding; an effigy of light.

Skin and bones discarded, all wants and needs forsaken, she sits around and waits for all of those who need her.

In dreams, she runs barefoot, plunges into the ocean, walks down a wooded path until nighttime approaches.

When awake, dishes clang, phones ring, dinner burns, she drives, mends, and shouts as children squirm.

A mother is not perfect, but if you ever hurt her, remember that, in essence, she is no more than a girl.

May 8, 2014 Miami, Florida

198

A World Full of Beings by Ileana Collazo When a word enters someone’s brain, it is met by an army of possible meanings.

What to you implies one thing, to me suggests another.

What offends and enrages you fills me with hope and light.

With the best of intentions, I send you a message.

With dread and confusion, you fire right back.

In a world full of beings with so much to say, there is bound to be a war raging each day.

Friday, June 20, 2014 Miami, Florida

199

A World Full of People by Ileana Collazo It is a lonely place; this world full of people.

We walk in unison, only with ourselves, as we misstep with everyone else.

We learn to dance to the sound of music, to walk hand in hand, and whisper sweet nothings to ears that, with time, grow deaf to our crooning.

While with each heartbeat, we grow closer to the thing we cannot alter.

Though we wish and pray that long, we can stay, each breath we take, has been stolen from those who have crossed that thin line that render them invisible.

Monday, May 26, 2014 Miami, Florida

200

Aborted Dreams by Ileana Collazo Don’t walk so fast, you make me gasp; don’t grab my wrist, you’ll make me trip.

Wash off your stains in the deep blue pool while I lie down, on the soft, green grass.

My eyes fixed on the starless sky, my dreams aborted, your hopes discarded.

A bucket filled with our regrets hanging from the branch of the dead oak.

Thursday, May 22, 2014 Miami, Florida

201

Another Day in Paradise by Ileana Collazo As we sit and watch, the crowd bursts into chatter; as we huddle in bunches, and the cameras blind us.

We are the artistic crowd, beloved, admired, and showered with compliments.

Back in our studios, full of dreams and false hope, we approach the blank canvas and smear it with paint.

Hoping and praying that the next work we create will elevate us to greatness and pay our overdue bills., Right before dawn, we go to bed to wake up shortly after hoping that morning light won’t wash out all our dreams.

Sunday, April 13, 2014 Miami, Florida

202

Call Me Desire by Ileana Collazo Come closer, let me whisper in your ear.

Tuck away your dread, allow me to steer.

The wind died down at sunset, the night is dark and starless, the moon has gone astray.

Let us lock in an embrace.

Don’t fret, don’t pace; erase the fear from your face.

With my bare hands, I will not touch you, with my moist lips, I will not brush yours; but I will take your breath away and leave you dazed.

Call me Desire.

When daylight comes, I will be gone.

Perhaps I was not there at all.

Remember me as a mirage of daydreams that never come true.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014 Miami, Florida

203

Cast your Net by Ileana Collazo Erase the past, cast your net into the future far and wide, to trap the world inside.

Pry open an oyster, pluck its pearl, thread it through silver thread, wear it around your neck Eat bread and cheese at a seaside café while you sip wine.

Dine in bed by candlelight.

Close your eyes for just one second, open them, and look around you.

Run your fingers through the air, trap kaleidoscopes of moonlight.

Cherish the awe of those moments, stash them away for those times, when winter nights appear endless, and grey skies paint the days colorless.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014 Miami, Florida

204

Counting Each Step by Ileana Collazo The choice between a winding road and the narrow path can be daunting.

As the pond is still, and the river flows to the ocean, we should feel at ease with our choice.

Yet, our stomachs churn, and our thoughts collide as we stand and wonder if we will go too far before realizing that the route we left behind was the one we should have taken.

Sunday, May 25, 2014 Miami, Florida

205

Dream Weavers by Ileana Collazo Culture is a living thing that consumes every artist’s brush stroke sways with each musician’s rhythm, chews on every poet’s words.

Not meant to be a badge some people wear to show everyone else what they are worth.

Culture is an ocean we plunge into to savor the true meaning of the divine.

Perceived to be a cult of the elite who follow it to shine in its spotlight, it falls through the dark tunnels of greed that keeps so many others from its wealth.

Monday, May 12, 2014 Miami, Florida

206

Field of White Daisies by Ileana Collazo When we are used and abused, proven guilty without trial by a populace of judges sitting inside velvet chambers, we row down a shallow river entangled in thorny branches as the currents of life take us to the brink of being drowned as the sun and moon half blind us and the stars try hard to guide us through paths littered with disdain.

Peas inside a Sheppard’s pie, kernels clinging to corn husks, grains of sand in the sea foam; we hold on to our dreams and hopes, trying to keep them afloat.

As the current takes us far from the place it all began; we cling hard to the illusion we will end up on the grass of a field of white daisies where we rest our heads and sleep in safe and loving arms of the one we call our maker.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014 Miami, Florida

207

Good Night Maya Angelou by Ileana Collazo How can I honor the woman who was the mistress of words?

Commander in chief of verses frozen in time.

A lady, a fighter, a poet.

A person who stood so tall that she cast a giant shadow large enough to scare off prejudice.

Whose confident smile walked into the room before her.

So poignant and wise she was; sometimes to others’ demise.

Not only sure of herself, but also of things that are right.

She leaves her books and her legacy, and a small dent in our hearts, where we can save all the memories of what she preached with the words that poured from her like a fountain that’s always filled to the rim.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014 Miami, Florida

208

Happily Married by Ileana Collazo I woke up this morning as lethargic as if I had not slept, and told myself that I was tired of being a woman; not biologically, just job-related.

The problem is not that I am constrained inside outdated boundaries, but relatively free to pursue any passion, as long as I can keep up with my duly gender-appointed duties.

No one forces me to do so, but under a paper-thin layer of untrue progressive freedom, there is an olden-day chackle that keeps me tied by my ankle.

A daily grind of repetitive chores, which I have performed for the past 40 years.

No weekends off, no holidays; those special days mean double duty.

As for vacations: plan, pack, unpack, mountains of laundry; what fun, what wonder.

No contract, no job description, no giving notice, no replacement.

One of my options: emancipation through strike and rebellion; my other option: resignation, followed too closely by indignation.

Pacing and panting, I walk the dogs, cursing and damming, I feed the cat.

The sink I left empty last night is piled up with crusted mugs and dishes.

I never heard the army arrive, only my husband singing and painting.

As I walk past our still-lit studio, a towel and pants sit on the floor waiting for socks and shoes to join them.

When I return to the bedroom, he’s curled up in a fetal position; asleep as if he were an angel.

I take the pillow, and for a moment, the fleeting thought assaults me, but then I kiss his forehead and tuck him in so he can rest.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014 | Miami, Florida 209

Homage to Love by Ileana Collazo Paper-thin, soft as rose petals; jasmine scented, and ephemeral; that is what true love can be.

On the flip side, it can turn to sandpaper, tar, or hot tea that scars the flesh from within.

An evergreen, an oak tree, a precious stone, everlasting; we all wish for it to be.

But when we deem it as magic, and leave its process to chance, the whole thing can become tragic.

Give up all of the pretenses, all those lofty expectations, and do not hope for perfection.

Just hold the hand that extends, look into the eyes that seek yours, and marvel at this miracle.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014 Miami, Florida

210

I Am 3 by Ileana Collazo I have a voice, but do not shout.

I bow, but do not crouch.

My tall shadow is not afraid of the dark.

My spark lights the forest on a starless, moonless night.

I come and go in peace, but do not back down.

My power comes from deep inside.

I find the good in everyone, and hear the whispers of their souls.

Can taste sea salt in dessert sand, and see hope when others see none.

I am as simple as they come, and as complex as one can be.

Neither pretentious nor vain, just a woman sure of herself.

Thursday, May 15, 2014 Miami, Florida

211

I Am Woman by Ileana Collazo I’ve lived in caves, given birth, roamed through fields.

When I roar, the lion cowers, the serpents kneel.

I am a fighter, I don’t back down.

I am woman.

My fate belongs in my own hands, my might ignites my lover’s heart.

Nothing can stop me, I won’t be broken.

As long as I can breathe, I’ll scratch the walls and leave my mark, I’ll move my hips as I strut by.

My inner beauty blinds.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014 Miami, Florida Dedicated to all my sisters who have fought breast cancer and won.

212

I Am; Therefore I Breathe by Ileana Collazo Sometimes we have to choose between living and existing, loving and resenting, wanting and rejecting.

I listen to the constant chatter, watch the useless hustle, and wonder why so many others are not content with how it is.

I am; therefore, I breathe. If there is a reason, none of us knows it.

I do not conform to the excuses or the explanations, and purposely reject the projections.

Let it be, let it be, let there may be no answer, let it be, let it be; Why should we live on pure conjecture? concocted illusions and forced upon delusions?

I fear not, as I follow the path that leads nowhere I can conceive.

I watch my step, hurt no one, help all, and dream by day.

I am human, not superior; an artist, not special.

A woman, not an object; a thinker, not a follower.

Around me, some things change while others stay the same.

Time passes, but I cannot see it; I age, but still feel the same.

With few mistakes, considering the stakes, my brain runs my daily operations from inside my disposable container.

I sleep, but do not know why my eyes close while my mind races through fantastic voyages too soon forgotten upon my awakening.

My limbs respond to silent commands; I speak, laugh, and cry.

Does any of it matter when it can end in an instant?

I am, then I am not; but today I am, and I plan to be for as long as it is.

So, I breathe and cock my head to look at the sky, and listen to birds singing, because I am, therefore I do.

Monday, April 21, 2014 | Miami, Florida

213

I Have a Choice by Ileana Collazo I wake up each morning in my cozy bed with the sun streaming through my window; my dog lapping at my face, and my mom cooking me breakfast.

I feel good, I feel right with myself.

I wash my face and brush my teeth, comb my hair and get dressed; then the butterflies arrive.

The ones that flutter in my stomach every time I think of you, and all the things you say and do to make me feel so worthless.

I close the door of my room, and put the small box on my bed; the one that has my mom’s pain pills, and that old rope my father tossed.

I ponder my options, ending it all or dealing with you.

Sometimes it’s hard to choose, but I will live, and you won’t win.

One day, I will be free from you, in my big office on the avenue, and you will be a faded memory that can no longer cause me grief.

Tuesday, June 25, 2014 Miami, Florida Dedicated to all the children who endure the incredible suffering and humiliation forced upon them by bullying.

214

In Mourning by Ileana Collazo Two birds land on a branch, the pair becomes one.

A fish leaps out from the pond, the water dripping from its gills.

The clouds, so white, too soon turn grey; another ordinary day riddled with pain.

Each breath becomes a gasp.

A rattlesnake sits on the path, the meadow flowers are full of thorns, the mourning dove cries on the branch.

It is so hard to choose, die from the snake bite on the path, have the skin torn by crooked thorns, return to where there is no hope.

Monday, May 12, 2014 Miami, Florida

215

Knit Yourself the Notion by Ileana Collazo Amid the commotion knit yourself the notion that you are alone in the world.

All sounds cease, all forms melt and blur; a lavender carpet is laid out at your feet.

Desist if you are not willing to travel, persist if you are eager to glide to a make-believe land of silver and gold where pearls grow on trees and bird feathers are silk.

Don’t think; for it will break the spell, and make you dwell.

Do, bloom among the daffodils with their smiling faces and their graceful bows.

Where you, without a doubt, will find the peace that will bring the breeze that sings the love songs your heart longs to hear.

Saturday, May 17, 2014 Miami, Florida

216

Let the Sun and Moon Accompany You by Ileana Collazo While you run around in circles, everyone around you sits dressed in black leather and silk, taking sips from their wine glasses while vertigo makes you weep.

So, please, step away from the crowd and observe their interactions.

Watch them ignore your endeavor to become someone they value enough to share in your efforts to create a bond that fairs in the face of the adversities that arise as we walk through all the passages of life that, shared, become much less bothersome.

If they don’t respond to you, do not waste your time grieving those who do not earn your grace.

Sit on the newly mowed grass, sipping from your own wine glass; eating strawberries and cheese off a shiny silver platter while the breeze kisses your cheeks, and the sun and moon accompany you.

Sunday, May 18, 2025 Miami, Florida

217

Living Together, Sleeping Apart by Ileana Collazo Man and woman grapple over sex and money, a half-eaten apple, a child, internet porn; their marriage now a corpse they dress up every day.

He groans, she mourns; he moans, she subs.

Conformity brews the coffee, resentment fries the bacon and eggs; no toast, they won’t be breaking bread.

What’s dead is dead, but it can’t be buried yet; society is peeking through the keyhole, and they won’t admit defeat.

So they drive off each morning, too quickly returning, shout and curse with windows shut, and fret in their separate beds.

Sunday, May 4, 2014 Miami, Florida

218

Melted Glass by Ileana Collazo We struggle with thoughts, with words, with dialogue and philosophy.

We stand together, disband, lost in the vacuum of space, unable to walk away.

Shackled by gravity, the weight of our souls stifles us as order and chaos dance around us and sound and silence meet and clash.

Each minute ticking inside our heads, to the grander scale lost.

We come and go in a flash, Stardust from far away dissolving like melted glass.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014 Miami, Florida

219

Mother

by Ileana Collazo A mother is a woman who once was a daughter, who once was a child, who once was an infant.

Who started as an embryo created by two.

A mother is an object of love and affection resentment and rejection; a person of sorts.

Not always seen as human, but rather as a reflection of all that spells perfection and sacrifice.

All giving and forgiving, pious and understanding, never the least demanding; an effigy of light.

Skin and bones discarded, all wants and needs forsaken, she sits around and waits for all of those who need her.

In dreams, she runs barefoot, plunges into the ocean, walks down a wooded path until nighttime approaches.

When awake, dishes clang, phones ring, dinner burns, she drives, mends, and shouts as children squirm.

A mother is not perfect, but if you ever hurt her, remember that, in essence, she is no more than a girl.

Thursday, May 8, 2014 Miami, Florida

220

Mother Earth by Ileana Collazo I walk each day with the ground below my feet; sometimes hidden under concrete, other times there for me to see.

I sit under an ancient tree, and feel the breeze caressing me.

A flower blooms and a bird sings; a butterfly dances in flight, while bumble bees buzz by and eat.

The ocean travels near and far, kissing the shoreline with foam lips.

A raindrop sparkles in the sun, the moon and stars shine on the lake while I lay awake.

The Earth careens through open space, brushing the meteors in its path.

But, as one day follows one night, and many weeks become one year, its timeless beauty does not fade.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014 Miami, Florida

221

My Soul Feeds Your Ghost by Ileana Collazo You may be dead, but you live inside my head; polluting my brain, squeezing my chest.

The thumb on my temple, the bitter wine on my tongue, the feet that trample my dreams with metal boots that can crush.

You come and go as you please, I plead for you to move on, but you refuse to let go, because my soul feeds your ghost.

Monday, June 9, 2014 Miami, Florida

222

Night Garden 4 by Ileana Collazo At night, in the garden, I melt into the shadows; while the crickets chirp, and the stars prick holes in the charcoal sky, and the flowers sleep on their earthly beds.

I hum an old song, while the breeze gasps and dies as it strikes the tree under which I sit on a wooden bench that time has weathered.

If the sun and moon ran away, I could stay right here and never be found.

Monday, July 7, 2014 Miami, Florida

223

No Need to Bow by Ileana Collazo The end is near; for you, for me, and for everyone.

No one can disagree, yet we live as if we’re here to stay.

Night and day, we try to do our best.

Forcing our inner light to glow outside, so everyone can see who we truly are.

When we fail, we feel diminished, as our shame swallows our self-worth.

Instead, we need to reach that point in life when validation is sought from within and no longer need to take a bow.

Thursday, May 8, 2014 Miami, Florida

224

On being Female by Ileana Collazo I wake up each morning —the painter, the writer— ready for the day; the paint brushes clean and limber, the keyboard courting me.

It is another ordinary day.

The dishes are crusted because we ate, and I went back to paint.

The laundry pile hides the four dogs as the cat purrs on top.

The refrigerator keeps asking for food, while my husband and mother sleep.

I make my rounds and assess the perimeter.

Neat is dead, and chaos reigns.

While I paint and write, disorder takes the reins.

I sigh, and hope cries, I mutter and open the shades, I walk into the kitchen and shudder, I pass the laundry pile and pet the cat.

What, of it all, is my realm?

Who put it all in my court?

How much notice should I give?

I never applied for this job, and I do not like it at all.

Saturday, May 10, 2014 Miami, Florida

225

Rest a While

by Ileana Collazo I watch the world go by, stand up, and swear it is flat.

My tears, so moist, too quickly dry.

People I’ve known have lived and died While I struggle to survive.

Waking up to the morning light, fighting exhaustion late at night, aware I, too, someday will perish.

Our lives take place in blocks of time concocted by the human mind.

We measure everything we do in increments too small to grasp.

So seriously we take each task; the pains and struggles we endure, till we begin to fall apart, and either keel over or crack.

But there are moments when I stop, block all the hustle and the bustle, raise my eyes to the starlit sky, and know that each of them is mine.

That if the moon were made of cheese, like I was told when I was young, then all the clouds are cotton candy, and the grass a velvet carpet.

So, why not rest a while each day, take some deep breaths and forget that all around us stirs the chaos that clutters lives like littered shorelines.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014, | Miami, Florida 226

Robin Williams by Ileana Collazo What made a man who made us laugh so sad?

What made a man loved by so many feel so lonely?

If only one thing he pondered led him to his demise, he missed the thunder of all the rest of the wonder that made him shine.

Most of us grab onto each fiber of time to make it last.

He could not do the same, and we cannot bring him back.

But all the years that he gave us will outlast the shock of the sad way that he left us without saying goodbye..

Tuesday, August 12, 2014 Miami, Florida Dedication: Robin Williams was a part of my life from the early years of Mork and Mindy all the way to yesterday, when I had to read the news of his death twice to accept that the unthinkable had happened. I feel so sad for his loved ones, and for all of us who were gifted by his innumerable talents. I am as heartbroken as I know so many others are. He will be so missed; his talent will live on forever.

227

Shadow Land by Ileana Collazo Shadows roam inside our houses while we sleep, tossing and turning.

Do they whisper, whimper, or stumble?

Each of them always alone, unable to mingle for fear of melding, as the wind breaks through the silence, like a wine glass as it shatters.

The moonlight blurring their shapes, which the clouds swiftly return.

Born in darkness, they die young, to be reborn after dusk.

As we dream, they hover over us, softly caressing our faces.

With half-closed eyes, we can see them, but know that we cannot hold them.

Lonely and somber, they are, condemned to the lifeless nights.

Their days spent hiding in closets, cavorting with silent moths, rubbing against their soft silk, the vacant hours to fill.

Thursday, May 8, 2014 Miami, Florida

228

Solutions can be Found by Ileana Collazo To lose something one never had is the saddest thing.

To mourn all that which may have happened when nothing did, is much like wearing shoes to bed or holding an empty coffee cup.

Brooding about that waterspout that may someday make land, that waterfall that overflows and tears it all apart, only brings grief to stricken hearts that otherwise beat sound.

And, though misfortunes abound, solutions can be found when we let time take care of things, while we wait patiently, with our heads bowed.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014 Miami, Florida

229

Space Travelers by Ileana Collazo I cannot sing, but I can hum, bake bread, and laugh.

I cannot fly, but I can skip, knit, and wink.

I smell a flower every hour, and then I pause to breathe and sigh, and chase elusive butterflies that turn the corners of my mind to drink from dreams I left behind.

And when a bird rests on my hand, I pluck a feather from its wing to add to others, I have stolen to make a bed that’s soft and warm.

When the morning light that lasts a day -where I have roamed and played— passes the torch on to the moon, I fix my eyes on the night sky and dream about those other worlds where we may one day find the answers to all the questions that we have.

In the meantime, it is enough to know that we careen through space attached by unseen strings like marionettes that dance and play on an elusive blue and green stage.

Friday, March 7, 2014 Miami, Florida

230

Such a Wide Spectrum by Ileana Collazo There is a broad spectrum of possibilities in the realm of options.

We wake up each morning, set our feet on the floor; so solid below us, so tangibly real.

Except for that, and a few other things, everything is a dream that unfolds like a bedsheet taken out of a drawer and spread out in the wind to be laid on our bed, for when sleep calls our name.

We think, but that is hardly enough, because there are layers upon layers of disguised probabilities wrestling with one another until some of them win, and become our reality.

Monday, May 5, 2014 Miami, Florida

231

Take a Stand by Ileana Collazo Sometimes we have to take a stand, can’t let the chance to set things right fly by us like a mourning dove that has no time to stop and cry.

It is preferable to die than squirm inside skin wrapped too tightly inside regrets that make us squirm.

Fight with all your might, stand up to the night with its many shadows wrapped up inside its velvet blanket.

Stifle your scream, curse under your breath, grit your teeth and raise your hand.

Let it fall hard to make a dent.

Spent, lie on your bed at sunrise, and sleep all day to be prepared to face the demons roaming the twilight to assail you.

Sunday, May 18, 2014 Miami, Florida

232

The Darkroom of my Mind

by Ileana Collazo I pace the darkroom of my mind and dig deep trenches; burying inside them all the grime I cannot flush with bread and wine.

When I dine, I chew on dandelion greens and daisies that sprout beside the daffodils that bloom in spring to die in summer.

Today, the bones of all those lives I lived and lost are dug by beasts that chew on them while I sit still unable to glue back the pieces.

Thursday, June 12, 2014 Miami, Florida

233

The Marriage between Good and Evil by Ileana Collazo Man and woman grapple over sex and money, a half-eaten apple, an estranged child, internet porn; their marriage is a corpse; they dress every morning and sit in the corner to collect sawdust.

He groans, she mourns; he moans, she sobs.

Conformity brews the coffee, resentment fries the bacon and eggs; no toast, they are not breaking bread.

What is dead is dead, but it can’t be buried yet.

Society: hell’s keeper, the town crier, the whistle blower, stands at the door waiting for the news they refuse to produce.

Undecided about which price is higher, they wait, enduring a cold and dark war.

Living in a catacomb that blocks all the light from the sun and the moon, and dims every star until it fades.

They wait, stunned: that the door is so close and they don’t turn the knob, that each time they drive off, they return, that they have let themselves go so astray.

They pray, but are not believers; they shout, but the windows are shut.

They swear, never again; then scream, not again.

They stow away to that secret place where they know they’ll be found; there is no escape.

Black tux, lace, and pearls wait, stuck in the closet to be burned by rage.

Every bush in the garden is withered and brown, but they —stubborn children— still return to it often, looking for that one flower that may still be in bloom.

Sunday, May 4, 2014 Miami, Florida 234

The Night Flight of the Butterfly by Ileana Collazo As we fly silently through the night, our eyes are set on the morning light; badges of courage on our chests where they were forced to cut our flesh.

Focused on each moment of life, intent on living, we all are; odds do not mean a thing to us, our faith is stronger than we are.

As flowers bloom in a neighboring garden, we drink the nectar that gives us the strength to face each day as if it were our first and never think that it could be the last.

The past is gone, along with this disease, that will not bend us at the waist or the knee; for we are as strong as the ox on the field, and as soft and beautiful as night butterflies.

Sunday, June 15, 2014 Miami, Florida Dedication: A badge of courage is the emblem you wear to face off adversity without being so scared. This poem is dedicated to all the incredible women who cross her path and who fight to survive breast cancer.

235

The Other Side of Me by Ileana Collazo I have been thinking, I have; It’s what I do most of the time.

From when I awaken to the morning light, until the clock reminds me it is past midnight.

The thoughts that visit me don’t always stay, but they leave their traces, all the same.

Those conversations I never had, because the person got up and left; the things I scribbled on a scrap of paper that now lie folded in the trash.

I walk, then sit on a park bench, looking at the cars driving by.

I eat a salad, drink a glass of wine, and laugh as my cat plays in the yard.

Most things I do are inconsequential until I sit down at my desk, and all the words fly by like birds until they nest inside my head; then, my whole being reverberates with everything I want to say.

Sometimes I babble, others I hum, until a muse, all dressed in white, grabs my wrist tightly and makes me flee to find that other side of me.

2014 Miami, Florida

236

Thunder and Lightning by Ileana Collazo There are two types of sleep; the one that takes us to the depths of nothingness, and the one that drags us through the catacombs of our minds; where memories wrestle fantasies, and neither one wins in the end.

We don’t get to choose.

A green and purple nymph, that acts on pure whim, drags us through the darkness; turning our nights into convoluted plays we’re forced to watch with heavy lids half-closed and fluttering lashes, while sometimes a full moon peeks from the window And willow trees dance to the chirps of crickets.

When thunder sometimes strikes, and shadows pace; driven by stormy winds that come and go, our hearts bolt in our chest, and our limbs shake, even though we know it is the lightning that silently can turn us into stardust Tuesday, May 13, 2014 Miami, Florida

237

Time Stops for No One by Ileana Collazo Twenty-four hours: one day and one night; a little less than half of it spent sleeping, fretting, pacing, or reading.

The rest of it racing through imaginary mazes that take us to our made-up places, where we do things for no apparent reason.

So busy we all are, trying to leave our mark that we forget that time will too quickly erase them and render us unknown to all but a handful of others who remember us for the time we spent together, that flew by much too quickly.

Friday, March 28, 2014 Miami, Florida

238

Washed Out by Ileana Collazo A mother is a woman who was once a daughter, who once was a child, who once was an infant, who started as an embryo created by two.

A mother is an object of love and affection, resentment, and rejection; a person of sorts.

Not always seen as human, but rather a reflection of all that spells perfection and sacrifice.

All giving and forgiving, pious and understanding, never the least demanding; an effigy of light.

All skin and bones shed, all wants and needs forsaken, she sits around and waits for those who want and need her.

In dreams, she runs barefoot, plunges into the ocean, walks down a wooded path until nighttime approaches.

Awakened by reality, dishes clang, phones ring, dinner burns, she drives, mends, and shouts as children squirm.

A mother is not perfect, but if you ever hurt her, remember that, in essence, she is no more than a girl.

Thursday, May 8, 2014 Miami, Florida

239

You are that Special Child by Ileana Collazo Have you ever wondered why you stopped being special the instant you became a young adult?

Growing up seems to be a societal drawback.

A metamorphosis during which one evolves from precious to mundane.

Without a second thought, parents forgo their time, their needs, their wants for their offspring; who, in due time, become the sacrificial lambs.

In essence, each generation wastes its time harvesting crops that will be devastated by procreation.

My solution to this widespread problem: keep reminding your children that you are the child who preceded them; the one who came after the children, they now call Grandma and Grandpa.

Remind them that they will procreate and bem oved down the ladder.

Sit in the park eating Cheese Doodles and ice cream, follow a butterfly until you are breathless.

Dance, laugh, draw with crayons, catch light bugs in a jar and set them free at midnight.

Reclaim your rightful place, you are one of those children that so very much matters.

Saturday, April 26, 2014 Miami, Florida

240

241

Florida 2015

Window into My Inner Self | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

242

A Ghost of Her by Ileana Collazo Trapped in a garden without gates, eyes fixed on things she cannot see that her sad heart longs for in vain.

Rain falling softly on her lap, pale roses wilting by her feet.

Memories floating in the wind as crystal teardrops scratch her cheeks.

Sunday, May 17, 2015 Miami, Florida

243

Alternatives by Ileana Collazo Sometimes we fall in love with someone who does not exist, try to change someone who will never yield, love ourselves less than we do others, daydream at night and sleep the day away.

Sometimes we think things we should not, say things we don’t mean, wait much too long to do the things we need to, then end up sitting on a bench alone.

Other times, we suddenly turn a corner, let the summer breeze whisper to us, and let the sunlit shadows lead us to places we would not have gone.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015 Miami, Florida

244

Fated for Mating – Destined to Weep by Ileana Collazo One breath inhaled, one gulp of air thick with despair.

I lay inert on the wet grass daring time to pass.

One thread of gold around my finger; the reason for it gone.

I strain to listen to the faint whisper of words that have been said, but all I hear is the wind hollowing, and my sobs gone astray.

Sunday, May 10, 2015 Miami, Florida

245

Human Woman by Ileana Collazo Sometimes we fall in love with someone who does not exist, try to change someone who will never yield, love ourselves less than we do others, daydream at night and sleep the day away.

Sometimes we think things we should not, say things we do not mean, wait much too long to do things that need to be done, and end up sitting alone on a bench.

Other times, we suddenly take a turn let the summer breeze whisper to us, and let the sunlit shadows lead us to places we would not have gone.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015 Miami, Florida

246

I Pray you Pray by Ileana Collazo I pray that when you pray today you do it in a universal temple, where the only whispering you hear is the leaves that rustle in the breeze and not humans gossiping too near.

Where the glitter of jewels comes from the leaves’ dewdrops that sparkle in sunlight and moonlight.

Where the rich and the poor drink from one waterhole; where killing is done for substance, not hatred.

I pray, you pray, for innocence and grace; for knowledge to take ignorance’s place.

Amen - Namaste.

Thursday, December 24, 2015 Miami, Florida

247

Lying Beside You by Ileana Collazo Trapped in a garden without gates, eyes fixed on things I cannot see, that my heart longs for in vain.

The rain falls softly over me; flowers smothering my chest, petals choking me with dread from memories, for too long, dead.

Sunday, May 17, 2015 Miami, Florida

248

Move On by Ileana Collazo Continue to ponder and wonder about everything, for whatever reason; inspect many paths, but walk only one.

Arrive at dawn, bathe, eat, and sleep; but then, move on.

For it is never worth it -the price of holding onto things that come and go.

Saturday, November 28, 2015 Miami, Florida

249

The Last Day by Ileana Collazo It is time to die, but I want to read one more book, listen to one more song.

A splash of morning light soaked the bedroom floor, a gust of wind crumpled the kitchen curtains as I silently waited that whole day and night; wondering when, pondering if.

Then, morning came, and my resolve dissolved when my eyes closed.

My last thought came and went, and my last breath flew away as a soft rain drenched the world.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015 Miami, Florida

250

Worshipping the Goddess by Ileana Collazo I pray that when you pray you do so in the universal temple, where the whispering you hear comes from leaves rustling instead of humans gossiping; and the glitter and sparkle comes from jade bathed in light, wet rocks shimmering, and dewdrops beaming; not from necklaces and rings.

Where the rich and the poor drink from one waterhole and killing is done, for sustenance, not greed, jealousy or hate.

I pray you pray for innocence and grace, and for knowledge to take ignorance’s place.

Amen - Namaste.

Thursday, December 24, 2015 Miami, Florida

251

You are Gone by Ileana Collazo One breath inhaled, one gulp of air thick with despair.

I lay inert on the wet grass daring time to pass.

One thread of gold around my finger, the reason for it gone.

I strain to listen to the faint whisper of words that have been said, but all I hear is the wind hollowing and my sobs gone astray.

Sunday, May 10, 2015 Miami, Florida

252

253

Florida 2016

Among the Flowers | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

254

Alone with Her Thoughts by Ileana Collazo Isolation leads to devastation that cracks the soul; carving a passage for thought.

Abruptly, the silence explodes -turning itself inside out erasing all doubt.

Creation re-created by the space Inside a brain too cluttered by chatter.

The blood rushes to the stem, filling up with pools of words that rush freely to her brain.

Like chimes that clatter in the wind That brings the promise of spring That ends the darkness of winter.

Thursday, April 28, 2016 Miami, Florida

255

Alternate Landscapes by Ileana Collazo A flood of memories converges, forming a new form that emerges.

Whirlpools of colors, shapes, and scents that meld into amazing landscapes.

I feel as much as I can see, what my mind forms as I create with remnants of things long gone; still vibrant and real in my heart.

A petal twinkles with morning dew, a fall leaf twirls as it drops, a long hall filled with master’s works, a breaking wave that soaks my shoes.

These things I feel in the dark, and see through veils of sunlight, and taste with each meal that I eat, and hear in every song I play.

Because the past is always near, the future, something we can’t grasp, the present, cluttered with must-dos, and sleep our best time to migrate.

Friday, February 12, 2016 Miami, Florida

256

Bleeding Heart, Paper Wings by Ileana Collazo A door opens and closes, the floor creaks as footsteps stroke it.

Light shines, but too quickly fades, turning morning into darkness.

Devoid of all other sounds, only her breathing is heard mingled with the stifled whimpers of a soul too limp to cry.

Twenty-four hours have passed.

Lost in time and gone too fast, while the minutes dragged too slow.

Thoughts entangled in a web, tongue too dry, eyes open wide, arms hanging limp by each side.

Too late for prayers, too early for death; too angry to reason, too tired to flee.

Saturday, January 30, 2016 Miami, Florida

257

Bury My Ghost 6 Feet Deep by Ileana Collazo It is monochromatic inside me while my surroundings burst with the color spectrum.

Cold are my feet, raw are my hands; while every blade of grass is ablaze.

My gaze is dazed, my gait is crooked, my brain is draining into a basin.

Deliver me. restrained and strained, while my sobs tear open my chest.

Bury my ghost 6 feet deep, as the world weeps for one hour before it forgets me.

2016 Miami, Florida

258

Concealed Identity by Ileana Collazo The heart hurts in a way that is different from any other organ.

With a scalding pain that smolders, making us almost ignite as an unseen hand that presses until it leaves a deep dent tears our flesh from inside, twisting and shredding our gut.

Sorrow comes trailing behind, carving a ditch on the grass, exposing the jagged rocks that cut our feet when we walk.

Those quiet talks with ourselves, when we whisper words of hope, fall to the ground and break like glass, slipping from our hands.

No matter how fast time flies, leaving all the hurts behind, ashes continue to burn, sadness continues to stew, in a cast-iron pot with no lid that lets it spill and sip right down to our bones, staining and scarring our souls.

Monday, May 16, 2016 Miami, Florida

259

Divine Miracles by Ileana Collazo We are not what we eat; we are what we carry inside us.

What stirs our brains as we sleep, making us squirm as we dream.

What halts our stride and contorts our smiles, cracking our souls like caked dirt.

Divine miracles are we?

Or mere reproductions of distorted emotions molded into tiny heaps.

Saturday, July 2, 2016 Miami, Florida

260

Drowning by Ileana Collazo When your chest aches, and your heart breaks, and you fall into an ocean so deep that your lungs fill up with brine; the world ceases to roll over, and sun rays become so dim that the visions you have seen blur into a veil so thin that it rips in the warm wind as you feel the waves that swell as they sway you back and forth until you can hear the song of those mariners long gone who still weave with crooked hands shreds of hope that have long gone.

Sunday, May 1, 2016 Miami, Florida

261

Every Day should be Earth Day by Ileana Collazo Protected from the wrath of the harsh universe, traveling through black ink, sheltered by her magic as she beckons the sun and ushers in the moon and stars while we whine, and pant, and rage.

Unruly children, smeared in greed; we never have enough.

We scar her, suffocate her, pollute her, degrade her; but she still hangs on as chunks of space rock nearly miss her, thunder and lightning strike her, molted lava cracks her surface.

One day per year, we honor her, but every day should be Earth Day, since, without her, we are homeless.

Friday, April 22, 2016 Miami, Florida

262

Homage to 2016 by Ileana Collazo Time, the thief, has robbed us of another year; littered with things we left undone, studded by dreams we made come true.

The future, knocking at our door, delivers us a brand-new year that each new day will reveal, and history will file away.

As fear stands waiting in the shadows and hope strolls by and looks away, we tag along; children of Stardust, until the day we float away.

Saturday, December 31, 2016 Miami, Florida

263

Letting Go by Ileana Collazo A door opens and closes; the floor creaks as footsteps stroke it.

Light shines, but quickly fades; turning morning into darkness.

Devoid of any other sounds, only her breathing can be heard mingled with the stifled whimpers of a broken soul.

Twenty-four hours have passed.

Lost in time and gone too fast while the minutes dragged too slow.

Thoughts entangled in a web; tongue too dry, eyes open wide, arms crossed tightly against her chest.

Too late for prayers, too early for death, too angry to reason, too tired to flee.

Saturday, January 30, 2016 Miami, Florida

264

Looking at Herself by Ileana Collazo Two figures linger on the path; One moves, one stays, one approaches, the other retreats.

One hears a sigh as a beam of moonlight dives into a puddle at her feet, and the gust of wind she greets kisses her cheek and scuttles through the trees.

They touch, and meld into one shadow, looking up at a sky so starlit that it shimmers.

Saturday, May 7, 2016 Miami, Florida

265

Memorial Day, a Sad Day by Ileana Collazo I cannot help but wonder why we cannot stop before they die, and make new memories of days when no more blood was ever shed.

Can we not live our too-short lives in peace, and harmony, and joy?

Why can’t we have Memorial Day to celebrate the “no more dead”?

We hand perfectly folded flags to relatives who sadly cry, when we know what they want is to have back the ones they lost.

I know that wars will never stop, I know my words will fly like birds that can’t deter the greed and hate that cause so many senseless fights.

But I must say, while we rejoice on Mondays, off to rest and party, parents, spouses, children, and friends cry by the graves of their dead soldiers.

Saturday, May 28, 2016 Miami, Florida

266

Midnight Bloom by Ileana Collazo My heart, as ancient as the rocks, that roll on silent nights onto the shore - making that clicking sound beats to the sound of flapping wings that flutter hard against the wind; as hard as I try to be free from all the worries and the chains that keep me bound to destiny’s whims.

My will, much stronger than anyone thinks, fights like a warrior in this battle that never ends, and no one wins.

But I will not give in.

For I was promised paradise, and aim to build it for myself - with my own hands, in my own way with crystal walls that never smear where I will never shed a tear, and there will never be a woe that I can’t pluck like I do weeds when they grow too close to my dreams.

Sunday, January 3, 2016 Miami, Florida

267

New Morning by Ileana Collazo It’s a new morning, but everything is the same.

The sun is halfway out, but grey clouds smudge the sky.

I bolt awake and sigh, then close my eyes and wait for a voice to call out.

The silence cracks the space I tread through every day; leaving the marks of footsteps that quickly walk away.

I turn away from the light, to avoid facing my plight reluctant to leap, from dream world to shattered dreams.

Monday, March 28, 2016 Miami, Florida

268

Newborn Love by Ileana Collazo As the past and the present melt into the future, one thing remains true; You and I. As we age and we change; along with the world, our memories hold fast.

When we hold hands, close our eyes, and fall asleep in each other’s arms, we travel back to 1969.

A boy and a girl -waterlogged and drenched in new lovesummer rain and thunder, a stolen kiss and laughter.

Sunday, February 14, 2016 Miami, Florida .

269

No Room Left in Me by Ileana Collazo There’s no room left in me for regrets, reminiscing, or repetition; since that which seemed eternal is now terminal.

My life, my thoughts, my time, to the grand scheme, inconsequential.

These days, I search for things that I don’t need to keep in some rusted time capsule I won’t be here to open.

The past that used to beckon for me to go and visit I now turn a deaf ear to; mirages are not real.

And fear, always so near, is losing all its potency to loss, which is so real.

All questions left unanswered I’ll toss inside my casket; the thoughts I leave behind will not be stained by grief.

Friday, March 25, 2016 Miami, Florida

270

One Lifetime by Ileana Collazo Always in transition, in remission from the last blow that struck with such deft and precision that it hurt the most.

At all costs, you swear, never again, for now you know.

With the next strike, you drop.

As your days grow shorter, you move more slowly and sometimes falter.

Sun, moon; sun, moon.

Ice cream, fallen leaves, snow, flowers.

Faded memories of days that you wasted in your youth that you can never bring back.

Sunday, June 19, 2016 Miami Florida

271

Reminiscing by Ileana Collazo Woven into silence are the echoes of all those unquiet thoughts that we are intent on repressing for fear that we are digressing into a darkness so black that it turns the air into ice trapping us inside; restless and breathless, barely alive.

Any sign of life is welcome until we realize not all things are divine, not all blood is wine.

From a vine we hang with a grip so tight as broken fingers cause us to whine.

Once the silence breaks and new tears are shed; open wounds start to heal, broken hearts begin to mend, and all ghostly thoughts fly away.

Monday, March 7, 2016 Miami, Florida

272

Resolution by Ileana Collazo My heart is as ancient as the rocks that roll on silent nights onto the shore; making that clicking sound.

Its flapping wings fluttering hard against the wind; rushing to flee from unseen things.

My will, much stronger than anyone thinks, waging a war against itself that never ends and no one wins.

I was promised paradise, and aim to build it for myself; with my own hands, in my own way.

My crystal walls will never smear, there I will never shed a tear, and there will never be a weed that I can’t pluck from the moist soil if it grows too close to my dreams.

Sunday, January 3, 2016 Miami, Florida

273

Re-thinking What and How We Think by Ileana Collazo As the world grows cold from a lack of understanding, the torch we lit at the dawn of time grows dimmer with each passing day.

Frozen hearts, not global warming, threaten to end our reign on this planet.

Too many of us today have the power to spread pure nonsense with no sense of consciousness.

The poor are now lazy, the sick complacent, killings daily news, social media the bible.

Without face-to-face interactions, accountability has become old-fashioned.

With buttons to push to reach millions of others, the garbage we preach spreads like a virus.

Monday, May 30. 2016 Miami, Florida I wrote this poem in response to Dr. Wayne Dryer’s quote; which I believe to be damaging and offensive to society, to all the people who suffer from mental illness, and to their families: “People who panic or get depressed usually do so because they lose control – they give up responsibility for how bad they feel because it is easier to let others take charge of their lives than say: “I created these feelings myself”. This is a dangerous and hurtful statement; we need to educate those who are supposed to guide people with their expert advice.

274

Smoldering Grief by Ileana Collazo We dream that there are things that matter, and wince when we think that this is all there is.

Paradise found and lost are two very different things, one sought after, and the other feared.

Endearing is the promise that we will count on for eternity.

Appalling is the notion that we will dissolve into matter that, in turn, no longer matters and is of no consequence, as the world turns on its axis and we no longer exist.

To sit and wonder and ponder, counting each second that passes; knowing that each time a clock ticks and our heart beats in our chest, we come closer to that hour when our eyelids will stop fluttering, and our last breath will announce it is time for us to go.

Monday, May 9, 2016 Miami, Florida

275

The Home of our Hearts by Ileana Collazo Through layers of wonder and dismay, we tread through a life not of our making and, then one day we reach that point reserved for us to settle down and weave the threads of all the hours, and all the days, and all the years into a robe that fits our present selves; where we will find the warmth and comfort we traveled all this way in search of.

Monday, December 23, 2016 Miami, Florida

276

The Past is Always Near by Ileana Collazo When I was small, an old man with a limp would sit me by his side, point up to the sky, and tell me that one star in the Milky Way was mine.

To which I would reply: “I want it, bring it to me.”

To what he would rebut: “It is not yours to hold.”

“What is the point?

I would ask.

“Why own it just in name?”

“I do not want it, then.”

Today I sit alone, and stare up in my own; the woman I have become, much like the girl I once was; still wishing for that star and praying for it to fall.

Sunday, May 1, 2016 Miami, Florida

277

Waiting in Vain by Ileana Collazo To slip between the cracks into a space so tight; to slither on the grass in a drizzle so cold.

To wait in vain, in pain, for all that never came and all that never will.

As hours pass, and the earth turns bright, then dark and the heart expands and shrinks, and the tears and lips are dry.

To know that it is too late, but to remain inert eating dirt served on broken plates.

The calendar reads May 10th, but it gets dark at 5 o’clock as eyelids flutter like trapped butterflies and doors shut tight, leaving the world behind.

Friday, March 25, 2016 Miami, Florida

278

Weightless by Ileana Collazo A drum beats inside my head: unrest.

The best is gone, and I am left with all the rest.

Unkempt, the garden, overgrown with pests chokes the daylilies at night, withers in the light of day.

While I lay frozen in bed waiting for things that do not come, calling out names into space, digging my nails into my chest, trying to rip out the heart preventing me from floating away.

Sunday, May 1, 2016 Miami, Florida

279

Where All the Years Melt into One by Ileana Collazo The piano cries waterless tears as silent raindrops soak the windows; the sky a sheet of polished pewter, the branches pacing shadows.

My fingers dancing on the ivory, each note in tandem with a raindrop, as silence hovers in the next room waiting for sleep to come to claim me.

But I have no plans to surrender to the allure of black velvet, as yet another moonless night envelopes me in her embrace.

I peer into the dark and call out to the memories that roam, but they lay curled under my dreams and will not come until I crumble into the arms of restless sleep where all the years melt into one and everything that used to be returns to taunt and haunt me.

Saturday, August 13, 2016 Miami, Florida

280

You are, I am, we are by Ileana Collazo With all the negative things going on in the world, if you have made reservations to go to heaven remember to review the baggage requirements and to read the small print for, it is not enough to pray if you live by scorn, not enough to say I’m sorry after you hurt others, not alright to amass wealth while others die from lack.

You are, I am, we are all remnants of stardust, scattered cosmic dust that became us.

Thursday, November 10, 2016 Miami, Florida

281

Florida 2017

Self-analysis |Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

282

All the Pretty Fish by Ileana Collazo I swim in the deep ocean at night, where all the pretty fish I can’t see swim by me in the blue-black water, I skim with my body; dipping my head, turning it sideways for a breath.

While the waves are cut deep by slivers of moonlight, and the stars prick holes into the crumpled blanket that opens and closes as my arms move in tandem, and a breeze chills my bones as it blows off the clouds.

The shore behind me, the horizon ahead of me; always moving away as I keep heading towards it.

As the sun slithers up like a golden pendant, and the sky and the ocean turn a pale blue, a swift silver bullet barely touches me and a second time bumps me; and I fear that my life will soon end, but it just disappears, leaving me breathless.

Saturday, December 28, 2017 Miami, Florida

283

I am not God by Ileana Collazo From a line so thin and long, and a fading circle like the setting sun that hides from my eyes, I am asked to create a life, as if I were God. As the noise inside my head rumbles, and my resolve crumbles, and the waves crash on the shore, and my heart is torn with pain.

I reign the thoughts that kick up like horses unwilling to leave the pasture to be constrained in their pens.

I moan like the wind trapped in a canyon - unnoticed and unheard as the pain slashes my throat with a silk embroidered blade.

I blink, and my tears turn into rainbows.

I speak, and my words turn into mourning doves.

I open my arms, and my soul goes up in flames.

I blame no one, for I am the writer of the play unfolding, and I chose the stage on which it takes place; over and over again, while no one watches.

Saturday, December 23, 2017 Miami, Florida

284

Midnight in the Deep Ocean by Ileana Collazo When your dreams become nightmares do you surrender to sleep?

Pacing the floor with led steps that follow the lonely night.

Two stars, so bright that they blind; too far to grab, too sharp to hold, hang on too tight to fall while your heart pounds inside your head and your lungs struggle to pull a breath because you fell into the sea and sank much too deep to swim.

Thursday, December 21, 2017 Miami, Florida

285

Moon Bridge on a Moonless Night by Ileana Collazo Moon bridge on a moonless night, when a million stars light a sky so black, and the water moves swiftly in the evening breeze.

Sitting on the ledge, dangling my feet, tossing bits of food to fish, I cannot see.

Not a sound is heard, except that for my breath seeping in and out of my half-open mouth.

If a hand should land on my bowed head, I would not turn to look, I would not say a word.

But I know it will not, I told no one I left, there are secrets I keep while everyone sleeps.

Thursday, December 21, 2017 Miami, Florida

286

Mother by Ileana Collazo Don’t be afraid, I can walk with you right to the edge; though I cannot cross.

If you look behind you, try only to see all the flowers planted in your younger years.

Don’t fret about leaving, marvel at the fact you were here at all and you lived so long.

Go and wait for me with the ones you cried for; find joy in knowing that your struggles are over.

I will stay and make the best of it, like you did when you lost yours.

Saturday, April 1, 2017 Miami, Florida

287

Separated by Ileana Collazo Torn from the stem, the flower and the fruit lay on the soil inert; scalding in the sun, staring at the moon.

The rain that soaks them unexpectedly does not quench their thirst; the gusts of wind that follow blows the flower away.

The fruit, shedding its velvet dress, exposes the seed inside; while the flower, brittle and paper-thin, floats down a shallow stream.

Friday, August 18, 2017 Miami, Florida

288

Stranded by Ileana Collazo There’s too much stress in my life, I am frightened and marooned in a harsh, vast universe on a planet so nonsensical.

I hang on, not knowing why, battered by the winds of time; shredded into pieces by things that smear my resolve with hopelessness.

Each day bathes me in sunlight; each night engulfs me in darkness.

No one can tell me the truth; it does not exist at all.

Memories of all things gone force my mind to sift and strain through faint thoughts that tie themselves into knots that bind and squeeze me.

I put my hand out to touch that which no longer has presence.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words can paint my visions.

Alone in a crowd, a shadow floating around.

Lost, found, and lost again.

Thirsty for the final truth, nothing here can quench my thirst, I will have to wait for time to tell me what’s on its mind.

Saturday, March 25, 2017 Miami, Florida 289

Time by Ileana Collazo Time washes off so many traces of our lives, taking with it people, places, the material, and the ephemeral.

These days, I sometimes feel as if I am standing naked on some lonely road I did not go to by choice.

Some instinctual drive I do not recognize, but know exists propels me forward into days ahead that roll by much like the blurry landscape outside the window of a moving train; gone from sight before one can take in the scene.

When the reality of what time does splashes me with dread, I let the tears roll down my cheeks and stain the floor until they form a deep, dark puddle in which to drown my sorrows.

Wednesday, December 20, 2017 Miami, Florida

290

Time Travel by Ileana Collazo Our lives are tears shed by memory that feed a puddle that grows and deepens.

A mirror that reflects a past sometimes pristine and others murky.

We age; life evaporates, leaving us dazed and thirsty with mud-covered thoughts and dry sobs, and no one left to hold on to. .

One day, our eyes fixed and glassy, we leave and take it all with us.

No past, no present, no future; just snapshots left in a box sitting at some small drift shop waiting for someone to find them.

Curious snippets of a past life that came and went unexpectedly.

Saturday, March 4, 2017 Miami, Florida

291

Underground Temple by Ileana Collazo When the burdens of life take their toll, and bells chime like sirens in your head; when the sun turns too bright for your eyes, and the moon chills your soul, hide inside the underground temple.

Covered with moss, lit through cracks in the soft earth; silent and warm.

Where whispers have butterfly wings, your breath kisses blades of grass, tears run down like falling raindrops, and time stops until you surface.

Friday, December 22, 2017 Miami, Florida

292

We are Never Free by Ileana Collazo We are never free, each choice we make commits us to a task; each step we take sets us on a path.

We can see the past, real enough to feel, but we cannot go back, as with each day, it disappears.

The first kiss that warmed our lips, the cup of tea drunk on Christmas Eve while the children sleep and we wrapped their gifts.

The parents who were always there - until they went away, never to return and the veil of tears blinded and enraged us.

Hostages of life, we ride a speed train headed towards a tunnel where darkness will engulf us.

Tuesday, December 26, 2017 Miami, Florida

293

What More is There to Know? by Ileana Collazo These days I walk at a slower pace; shuffling my feet, while my thoughts fly by.

You asked me to tell you about all of this, so I have been pondering, looking, and wondering.

In the yard, a cat purrs, a bird chirps; a leaf falls, while I breathe and blink.

In the house, I close my eyes and listen to the rain while you sleep.

In a box, in the attic old photographs and love letters - ignored, but not forgotten speak volumes without words.

I grab your hand and look deeply into your eyes; two dark brown pools reflecting years of affection.

What more is there to know?

There is me, and there is you, there is a breeze, and there is rain.

And there is time and precious memories.

Monday, September 23, 2017 Miami, Florida 294

You Lead, I’ll Follow by Ileana Collazo Tell me one word that explains, and another one that soothes.

Leave me one thought I can frame inside the blank space you left me.

Paint me a story, no lines; where edges blend, meld, and dissolve and illustrates the years we spent together before you left me.

Pillar of my feeble frame, erect, you held me in place.

Cold marble seals you away, leaving me behind to fret.

Come back, let us start over again; I promise to do my best never to fall out of step.

Friday, August 4, 2017 Miami, Florida

295

Florida 2018

The Age of Innocence| Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait 296

A Light Rain Falls by Ileana Collazo A light rain falls as music plays; the raindrops echoing the piano.

The pale grey sky, like cotton balls, packed in a jar kept on a dark shelf.

The water trickling from the roof carving a shallow pool, as a few sun rays slip through illuminating the wall and shadows.

A chilly breeze rattles my bones as I sit still on the front porch feeling a oneness with a world I can’t explain or make sense out of.

Monday, January 2, 2018 Miami, Florida

297

Ancient Footprints by Ileana Collazo Sometimes at night, I dream about the ghost that lingers and roams where it once walked.

The past and all the secrets, we strive so hard to learn from remnants it left scattered.

But like a broken vase that shattered when it fell the pieces do not match.

The stories left unwritten, images not rendered, the lives once lived extinguished.

The present follows suit, unearthing our reality; the future yet unborn unsure of where it's headed.

Sunday, August 19, 2018 Miami, Florida

298

Crystal Shackles by Ileana Collazo The crystal shackles that constrain me that no one else but I can see, ring like glass wind chimes as I turn; and shine like moonlit snow.

The tears that fall onto my pillow moisten the picture that I hide, along with one small piece of lace from a dress worn when I was young.

No one remembers me as I pretend that all is still the same as when I walked the hills at twilight and plucked spring flowers in the rain.

But I remember them because they pace the halls inside my head where all my memories are kept so neatly folded in a pile that grows with each moment that passes adding to happiness and grief; while I lay still running out of time.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018 Miami, Florida

299

Dragonfly Wings by Ileana Collazo Inside the cocoon that constricts my brain, I wait for each day to unfold in its own way; for, I cannot lead the way.

But, nurtured by my faith, my soul’s wings flap and flutter until I leave this earth and soar above the walls that fail to contain me as I fly towards a light so pure and so serene that neither sun nor moon outshines it.

Sunday, March 25, 2018 Miami, Florida

300

Human Woman by Ileana Collazo Fated for mating, destined to weep.

Looking at myself, searching for me; alone, weightless, washed out.

Bleeding heart, paper wings, caught in the Matrix, traveling through time dressed in silk, smoldering with grief.

Human Woman, on her way to upside-down waterfalls for drowning souls.

Wednesday, October 10, 2018 Miami, Florida

301

I am Here by Ileana Collazo I am here, behind the mask - just being frozen in time, lost in thoughts.

Pondering, bound to my past.

1969, before, and now.

The scrapbook of my life inside my cavernous mind; washed out memories.

Waiting for the final truth, when all the years melt into one.

Out of the forest; born from the collective, returned to the collective.

Tuesday, October 9, 2018 Miami, Florida

302

Spiraling Galaxies by Ileana Collazo With my ears I listen, with my eyes I see, with my hands I feel, with my heart I sense.

Each moment I am here, each moment you are there, galaxies spiral forward in a silent vacuum.

Colors flash as light trespasses, breezes whisper as clouds form new shapes.

I wait; you come and go.

I sleep; you stroke my face.

As the world zips by and millions of stars shine in your eyes every time you look my way.

Saturday, August 18, 2018 Miami, Florida

303

The Darkest Night by Ileana Collazo The darkest night is not the moonless, starless night; it is the night your heart splits open when all the refuse that you stored inside your chest pours out in gushes because you can no longer hold all that resentment stuck inside you chocking the life inside your life, wasting time carved out of eternity You, now walking hand in hand with all the memories that haunt you as all that has become a ghost that frightens all that is to come.

Wednesday, May 9, 2018 Miami, Florida

304

The Place Where Our Heart Lives by Ileana Collazo We are not home until we arrive to the place where our heart lives; where we dream with open eyes as each day unfolds with ease, gentle breezes brush our cheeks, grass and wildflowers weep as a gentle rain arrives while the sun hangs in the sky and the clouds are hung to dry.

Friday, August 31, 2018 Miami, Florida “The music of the heart plays the loudest, for it comes from within you.”

305

The Scream by Ileana Collazo Throughout the centuries women have screamed for equal rights, for social justice.

Now they are screaming for their children, their right to live, their right to thrive in a safe world devoid of fear where a scraped knee is a big deal and getting killed a thing that happens to grown-ups who make the wrong choices.

As you remember your childhood, when you felt safe and free, ponder on how it feels to live haunted by doubts and fears.

Sunday, March 18, 2018 Miami, Florida

306

The World by Ileana Collazo The world awakens from the night, slowly rotating on its axis, dancing through space around its master; gazing in awe at the vast galaxy, speeding away into the darkness, taking it with it without asking.

No beginning and no end, no destination, no time of arrival; just a deep knowing that one day when the sun dims and lets it go, like a tumbleweed, it will float; a lifeless rock without a purpose.

Wednesday, January 3, 2018 Miami, Florida

307

Wilting Beauty by Ileana Collazo As each soft petal falls, the rose stares down at the soil; the drop that rolls down its green leaf, a teardrop born from morning dew.

So young and beautiful she was, everyone stopped and stared, as she swayed carelessly in the wind and drank the sun and rain.

The moon and stars shining on her, made lovers swoon and sigh wanting to pluck her from her stem; refraining from the act.

Knowing how little she would last removed from her beloved home, the corner of the cottage garden where she was born and meant to live.

Only one petal now left, pale and brittle as it struggles to stay connected to its center.

But, on that moonless, starless night it tumbles to the ground landing on the hard pebble path where all the others fell and crumpled.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018 Miami, Florida Dedication: To my mother, a beautiful rose wilting before my eyes, while all I can do is stand by helplessly.

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Florida 2019

Reminiscing | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

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Life Cycles by Ileana Collazo A single bloom struggling to shine in a dark, stark universe where stars call out in vain to the children they have birthed as they burst into flames.

Tissue paper petals melting in the rain leaving rainbow streaks the sun soon erases washing away memories as the past flies away.

Sunday, March 31, 2019 Miami, Florida

311

Not Long Ago, I Fell Asleep by Ileana Collazo Not long ago, I fell asleep floating on a calm black India ink sea; my mind, a listless stowaway inside a vessel set astray.

Dreams drifting by like the slow currents that takes the seaweed to the deep.

I heard the whispers of the breeze and caught a glimpse of the new moon.

My body is as soft as Chinese silk as salty water kissed my lips.

Time became timeless, and I wept; the past and present became one.

The future remained a mirage.

The sea returned me to the shore as morning light quickly approached; my eyelids fluttered, and I saw a seagull plunge into the surf.

Monday, January 28, 2019 Miami, Florida

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Florida 2020

Crystal Blue Persuasion |Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait 314

A Place I can’t Recall by Ileana Collazo Sometimes I am called to a place I can’t remember, a place I can’t recall.

Like a fog in my mind, a thump in my heart, I know it is there.

I know I was there and time took it with it, but its essence remains.

I dream by night, and ponder by day if I walk far enough if I look hard enough, if I stretch out my arms.

Will I find my soul there?

Monday, November 23, 2020 Miami, Florida

315

I Am by Ileana Collazo I am tiny fragments of moments strung together by time; grains of sand that collide and in time become one.

I breathe air I cannot see, see things that go on their way prompting me to remake them in the workshop of my mind.

Sometimes I sigh, and don’t know why.

Sometimes I cry when the rain wets the grass.

At night, I hunt for the shadows of those gone; in the morning light I stare at things they left behind.

The clock does not stop.

My face tells its tale.

My hands slightly tremble, my stride sometimes fails.

I am what I cannot explain, came from a place I can’t remember, live for reasons I can’t fathom, and I am headed to a place I can’t envision.

Sunday, November 22, 2020 Miami, Florida

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Into the Light by Ileana Collazo I am the only one who can pull me back into the light; the long shadow I see is me.

If I sit and wait, it won’t go away; if I crouch and weep it will swallow me.

Each step I take will scrape my soles. the blood I shed will paint a path for others who are trapped like me to follow.

Monday, November 23, 2020 Miami, Florida

317

No Longer There by Ileana Collazo I walked, I sat, I looked around.

No one in sight for me to call out to.

The sun was warm, but the breeze was cool.

The air and grass were damp from the morning rain.

A rose, half-spent, was shedding its petals as her beauty faded.

My feet bare, my hair undone, my face tear-streaked, I started on my way.

Aware that I can't, mindful that I won’t, return to a place that is no longer there.

Tuesday, November 17, 2020 Miami, Florida

318

Nothing Ever Changes by Ileana Collazo I know you know, but I want to tell you; and when you forget, let me help you remember.

Every blade of grass, every dandelion, all the birds that sing, butterflies that flutter, never ask questions.

They go their way as if nothing ever changes until they fade away.

More come, but their essence remains in the memories we keep tucked away in our hearts to recall in our daydreams.

Tuesday, November 17, 2020 Miami, Florida

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Society at Large by Ileana Collazo Laws strictly imposed to protect the unborn don’t extend to help children after they are born.

Welfare recipient, be dammed, take care of all the babies we forced you to have.

Gun rights prevail over saving innocent lives.

Freedom for all does not include some.

Those who set the rules are too often blind to the perils they inflict on society at large.

Saturday, June 4, 2020 Miami, Florida

320

The House by Ileana Collazo The floorboards creak like mourning shadows.

The house where I slept, ate, and laughed now cries for me in its dark moment.

No one to patch the paint that peels, no fresh-cut flowers on the mantle.

In daylight, fading from abandonment.

In twilight haunting in the moonlight.

So far away from it, I feel as I sit silent in the garden.

My limbs as frozen as my heart, my mind, a blank space in my head.

Monday, May 18, 2020 Miami, Florida

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The Jester by Ileana Collazo The Jester, too sad to laugh, hides behind the curtain.

As the crowd roars and waits, he claps his hands over his chest.

Trapped in that space, with no way out, until time passes and silence reigns.

As the lights go out, no one takes notice of the limp body slumped on the ground.

Wrapped in a cloth, they send him off, another Jester takes his place.

No one will notice, they never did, they never asked who he was.

A marionette for their delight, a lonely soul who died from heartbreak.

Monday, November 23, 2020 Miami, Florida

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Florida 2021

Sweet Sixteen | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self=portrait

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As We Age by Ileana Collazo What was once inconsequential, becomes catastrophic as we age.

There’s no glory in decay, no honor in the degradation of the self.

Those who come after, always eager, to wipe out the old ways.

Marginalizing the feeble while claiming to honor and respect.

Though not contagious, aging is the ghost that spooks the most.

Our legacy at birth; the curse no one escapes.

And, so, the elderly retreat to a past only they see.

While others think they've lost their minds, they know exactly where they are.

Sunday, January 24, 2021 Miami, Florida

325

Blue Moon by Ileana Collazo On the eve of the blue moon, I roam alone just as I do many other nights under a starlit sky.

Silence and stillness walk beside me, while my shadow moves in tandem; never out of step, flowing like the breeze.

I inhale and sigh, submerged in the beauty and the memories that stumble inside me in abandoned disorder.

If I walk all night the dawn will meet me, the shadow will leave me, and morning light will kiss me.

Saturday, August 22, 2021 Miami, Florida

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Coral Path by Ileana Collazo The sidewalk, crooked and narrow, made from cut coral from a quarry, disappears around the corner.

Its crevices telling the stories of time spent under the ocean.

I follow as it leads me astray, away from the road and into the trees; where the sunlight filters through the leaves.

As it widens and straightens, it suddenly ends without reason.

I run my finger down its edge, a deep gash makes me bleed.

I draw a circle with my blood and walk away.

The sun has set, and it is dark.

I tread the grass on my return, so soft and cool under my feet that I forget the pain.

Monday, May 31, 2021 Miami, Florida

327

Cosmic Traveler by Ileana Collazo Everything around me dies, while I await my turn.

Sometimes afraid, others confused.

When I was young I paid no mind to the carnage that surrounded me, but as my turn gets closer, I cannot help but wonder.

What brought me here?

Where am I headed?

A cosmic traveler, am I? Is this just one more stop in time?

Am I to board the ship again to sail away to some new place?

Tuesday, April 20, 2021 Miami, Florida

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Empty Dream Catchers by Ileana Collazo As we age, our dream catchers empty, we stare into space and hold our breath as flowers wilt, butterflies pause, songbirds go silent, and the white noise in our heads make us deaf to the world.

Our tears dry, our throats scratchy, we swallow dry sand until we fill our guts and float to the bottom of the ocean where we lie until we dissolve and our bones become little bits of rock that turn into sand that strays to the shore.

Friday, October 1, 2021 Miami, Florida

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For as Long as I Remember by Ileana Collazo For as long as I can remember, I have been walking down this path, carrying my dreams on my back.

When some slip off, they crumble, like the houses of my youth.

Where I ate and slept, laughed and cried, and grew up to be me.

While the memories scribbled on the walls of my brain in glaring blood red I read in silence, then shout at the wind; who throws the echoes back at me.

Others took the path before me, some are now walking beside me, more are coming that I can’t see.

Sometimes I try to stop, for just a little bit, but my feet keep walking, and my thoughts keep talking as the ones ahead of me turn to smoke while the ones behind me pay no mind and the ones beside me weep.

Wednesday, September 15, 2021 Miami, Florida

330

Marooned by Ileana Collazo I lie, half-drowned, on an arid shore gazing at a sky full of clouds; no promise of rain, no tears left.

Forever is a long time when there is no hope; it’s senseless to seek meaning in this vacant lot.

To scream in rage when there’s an echo makes the pain more unbearable.

Breaths turned to whimpers, dry tongue twisted.

Death visits me each dawn, brushes my lips with wine, fills a cup with cool water, and drinks it while I thirst.

Wednesday, July 14, 2021 Miami, Florida

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Florida 2022

2021 Virtual Central Command Station | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

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Back Home by Ileana Collazo The trees sleep while the mourning doves stir and the breeze whispers to the grass that the Weeping Willow will soon dance while the wild daisies look up at the sky.

I sigh because I am not there.

I was called elsewhere to a place that does not stir the daydreams I left behind.

Too long it’s been, and longer it will be; memories are all I have.

Not true, I also have regrets for having walked away.

But time and I cannot backtrack, as we move forward hand in hand.

It taking me to the unknown, I hoping it will be back home.

Wednesday, November 23, 2022 Miami, Florida

333

Behind the Screen Door by Ileana Collazo Behind the screen door, in the early morning, one can see the ghosts reaching for the light.

Frozen they stand, as the darkness behind them seems to push them forward urging them to flee.

But they cannot move, memory cut-outs; snippets of thoughts from the years that have passed.

Roaming through a space devoid of all life; silent and demure, forgotten and abandoned.

Sunday, November 27, 2022 Miami, Florida

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Bitter Heart by Ileana Collazo Lost in a place I know so well; where I cried a pool of tears and looked down at my reflection to see a strange version of myself.

I dwell on things that I did wrong, and long for things left undone; while I do nothing at all as the minutes pass me by leaving me to wonder what set them in motion and turned my bitter heart to stone.

Thursday, December 15, 2022 Miami, Florida

335

Bundles of Energy without Bodies by Ileana Collazo Memories tug at our hearts, as much the happy as the sad; because they are all in the past.

There is no way to bring them back, to fix the wrongs, re-live the rights.

Forward march to the unknown we go alone; each one of us.

Afraid of being in total darkness, floating in space like sparks of lightning; bundles of energy without bodies.

Thursday, December 8, 2022 Miami, Florida

336

Cactus Flower by Ileana Collazo I am accused of being uncaring, when the truth is, I am half-done; a grown-up child facing life, afraid of being on her own.

When dawn arrives, I seek the light; while at midnight, I reach for stars.

When morning dew drops dry, I cry, until I find a butterfly, that leads me to the dragonfly that hides behind the cactus flower that closes up until the moon returns to wake it from its sleep; its breathless beauty only seen by shy night prowlers like me.

Saturday, December 3, 2022 Miami, Florida

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Early Morning by Ileana Collazo Leaving my warm bed, I scurry to the garden and sit by a dandelion that bloomed as I lay sleeping.

Sipping through the leaves, the sun rays drink the dewdrops that nighttime cried last night.

A bird catches a worm, the cat lies on the grass, a cloud covers the sun, and I run back inside.

Sunday, November 27, 2022 Miami, Florida

338

I Sit in a Corner by Ileana Collazo I sit in the corner watching fear knit me a blanket that looks much too small, of an orange color I do not like.

It knows me well; my vices, my worries, she keeps in a jar to sprinkle over me; in my restless sleep, when I run from dreams that race through my head like speeding cars that drive me through dark streets headed nowhere.

Friday, December 16, 2022 Miami, Florida

339

My Dream Evaporates by Ileana Collazo On this night, so crisp and cold, I cradle the moon in my arms while the stars blink all around me and the leaves dance in the wind.

No other sounds I hear, except for the soft, faint whimpers of water filling the fountain as raindrops drip in tandem from the clouds I do not see.

The windowsill is dry, the flower box is wet, my arms are getting tired.

I let the moon escape, the stars all fly away, I bolt awake in bed; my dream evaporates.

Sunday, December 18. 2022 Miami Florida

340

My Flower Garden by Ileana Collazo My flower garden grows as wild and unruly as my thoughts.

The weeds I never pluck bloom alongside random words that fly out of my mouth each time I sigh, and softly flow through breezes as I whisper the poetry that pours out of my soul and stains the grass with tears that I shed because beauty and sorrow both bring grief.

The first one, when it fades, the second for its sting.

Saturday, September 24, 2022 Miami, Florida

341

On Woman’s Day, Our Sisters Cry by Ileana Collazo While we whine, dine, and drink wine; our sisters flee, cry, and mourn their dead.

While we complain about the price of gas, the lack of goods, the mask/no mask; they cross the border and leave behind husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers.

One man, born from one woman, should not have the power to crush so many while sitting in a plush room hiding from a world that loathes him.

To honor women on this day we need to stand up to the men who are not forced to pay the price for being cowards in disguise.

Tuesday, March 8, 2022 Miami, Florida Dedication: To the Ukrainian women whose unbearable suffering should make the world feel especially ashamed about this war’s atrocities on International Women’s Day 2022. Do not just dedicate a day to honor us; help us make a peaceful world where we can bear children who can be safe, marry men who do not die in battle, spend time with our brothers instead of burying them too soon, and watch our fathers grow old in a peaceful world. Honor the Goddesses by crushing the tyrants.

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Society at Large by Ileana Collazo Laws strictly imposed to protect the unborn don’t extend to help children after they are born.

Welfare recipient, be dammed, take care of all the babies we forced you to have.

Gun rights prevail over saving innocent lives.

Freedom for all does not include some.

Those who set the rules are too often blind to the perils they inflict on society at large.

Saturday, Jun 4, 2022 Miami, Florida

343

The World Crumbles Around Me by Ileana Collazo The world crumbles around me while I sit with arms crossed fighting to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest as the birds warn me of the incoming storm that will sweep up and take whatever is left.

A tear pools in my eye, itself frozen with fear.

The words inside my head, only I can hear.

Sunday, December 11, 2022 Miami, Florida

344

To See You Once Again by Ileana Collazo Some days I feel you close; we walk hand in hand, you whisper in my ear, and we forget our fears.

Some days you feel so far away, like you did the day you left when I sat weeping on the porch after I came home from the church; where we all said our last goodbye to someone that we hold so dear, and hugged each other as we cried trying to find comfort in the fact that we all felt as lost as we crawled into a cocoon of shared sorrow for a loss that nothing can replace.

I wonder if you see the world you left behind, me lying on the bed, unable to let go; waiting to leave this place to see you once again.

Sunday, December 11, 2022 Miami, Florida

345

Waiting by Ileana Collazo So slow I walk until I reach the corner, turn, and crawl under.

I hold my breath and gasp; the darkness soothes, the quiet oozes wonder.

I close my eyes and shudder as I grasp fleeting thoughts that flutter by so swiftly.

The water pelts the ground with a soft thumping sound that mimics my heartbeats.

Footsteps approach and fade, as I lay still and wait for him, who cannot join me.

Tuesday, December 6, 2022 Miami, Florida

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We are Given Life by Ileana Collazo We are given life, programmed for self-preservation; but they forget to point out that it is taken away at what always seems like an inconvenient time.

Procreate and strive for success, but you can take nothing with you when you die.

Don’t forget to pray each day for admittance to the afterlife club.

Where the imperfect become perfect and, if they are devout, rejecting logic for blind faith will be blessed with eternal life.

Our Father in Heaven sent his son to die and pave the way for us; to cleanse our soiled souls of all the wrongs that we commit.

Our sins forgiven, in the end, if we repent and praise the Lord, regardless of what we believe throughout our tainted lives.

Saturday, June 11, 2022 Miami, Florida

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Florida 2023

Waiting for the Final Truth | Ileana Collazo | Self-portrait 348

Asleep, Awake by Ileana Collazo Asleep, awake.

Day after day, night after night.

Living, waiting to die.

Constricted lifespan comprising youth and old age; illusions and reality, vitality and infirmity.

Vivid dreams turned nightmares, carefree steps became shuffles.

Sharp mind muddled, eyes out of focus.

Created to be obliterated, deposited to be collected.

Allotted time to create memories that well up tears in the sorrowful eyes of those few who remember that we used to be here.

Saturday, October 21, 2023 Miami, Florida

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Contradictions by Ileana Collazo Plan for the future but live for today.

Proceed with caution, but toss your cares to the wind.

Life has an expiration date, but eternity awaits.

Forever young, but age with grace.

Contradictions accost us every step down the path to a tunnel so dark that we gasp as we enter.

No one ever returns, but we hear all the tales of a place so magnificent and eternal existence Not for every good soul, but for humans who pray as they do what they want instead of what they should.

They are the God chosen, they claim.

The rest of us burn because we ask questions.

Flocks of sheep, they call themselves, as they follow along mindlessly.

I prefer to take my chances, they are too afraid to ponder.

Saturday, May 27, 2023 Miami, Florida

350

Four Empty Walls by Ileana Collazo Walking through the threshold without looking back, knowing I will not return; whatever’s left behind, discarded by default.

Grab the pressed flower from inside the book.

I can’t, my hands are full of all the air that left my lungs and I reached out and caught it.

The further away I stray, the blurrier my thoughts; until a veil so white and soft wraps my brain like a cocoon.

I mourn, but don’t know why, I cry but have no tears.

My voice, which follows silently, becomes a whisper of wind.

This strange, recurrent dream leads me astray each night.

Each morning I awaken inside four empty walls, I dare not touch for fear that they will melt away, and force my eyes to see, the many things I fear.

Friday, September 29, 2023 Miami, Florida

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Frightened Souls Who Will Soon Follow by Ileana Collazo How do we plan our lives when we are born on our deathbeds?

When every breath we take can be our last, every dream we build is a sandcastle, and everyone we love turns into dust.

We wonder about, eyes vacant, faces tear-stained, asking questions that have no answers.

Re-reading fables, begging for forgiveness, secretly doubting what we can’t fathom.

Praying to a father we’ve never met, begging to be saved after we’re dead.

We are all children who grow up too quickly; who come and go too fast.

Leaving behind another assembly of frightened souls who will soon follow.

Friday, March 3, 2023 Miami, Florida

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Florida 2024

The Silence of the Young | Ileana Collazo | Digital Self-portrait

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Behind the Frosted Glass Window by Ileana Collazo Behind the frosted glass window I see the room where we sat holding hands in silence.

Counting each breath that we took, wiping each tear that we shed, watching the day turn to night.

And, then, we left.

Closing the door behind us, leaving the key on the mantle.

You turned right, and I turned left; walking without looking back.

Monday, April 8, 2024 Miami, Florida

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One Petal at a Time by Ileana Collazo Like a rose that falls apart, one petal at a time, they left me one by one.

Each time, I shed countless tears as sorrow pricked my heart like a thorn punctures a finger; leaving a lingering sting.

No blood poured out.

It drained into my chest like an angry river flowing; flooding my brain with bitter thoughts.

It feels like each breath I take, is stolen from the ones I mourn.

I sit alone and wonder if they can feel me, too; if they remember when I gave them one last kiss.

Wednesday, May 8, 2024 Miami, Florida

356

Surrounded by Pink Flowers by Ileana Collazo Surrounded by pink flowers, the grass a dew-kissed blanket, I look up at the clouds.

The sun warming my cheeks, a bird flying above, the breeze ruffling my hair.

I blink, and I’m in bed, grief-stricken and dumbfounded; love-sick for love itself.

I cry cold, silent tears; teeth clenched until they hurt, so angry with myself.

Each morning, I awaken, so ready for the day because I keep forgetting my brain is all that works.

Monday, September 9, 2024 Miami, Florida

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The Deep Divide Between Our Choices by Ileana Collazo I walk and whisper to myself; first in darkness, then in light, through a landscape I know so well I need not look ahead.

It feels as if I am detached a body searching for a soul, hopefully, my own if it has not already left.

Some leaves call me to follow, while fallen ones coax me to stay.

It often seems that way, the deep divide between our choices.

The joy and mourning for life lived, and all the others we rejected, stubbornly imprinted in our minds.

If I stand at the river's edge and stare hard at my reflection.

Will I see who I am today, or who I was when I had options?

Saturday, September 7, 2024 Miami, Florida

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The Only Path to Holiness by Ileana Collazo To everyone who lives in fear, stop.

Those who truly love you want you to be safe.

Beware of messengers of the omnipotent who feign they bring the message of salvation.

When you wake up each morning walk outside, stand still, take a deep breath; look ahead as far as you can see, and know that you’re a portion of the whole.

Wherever you are standing is your present, each time you breathe is what keeps you alive.

If you cannot see God, it is your fault.

Its essence is in every blade of grass, each bloom, and every living thing that thrives.

The only path to holiness is clear when we become immersed in what is real.

Monday, June 17, 2024 Miami, Florida

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The Tears That Flow and the Heart That Beats by Ileana Collazo There is no time for everything, sometimes there is barely time to breathe, but the tears can come at any moment because they flow at will.

Rolling down our cheeks, falling on our laps, drying up too soon to be a proof of sorrow.

The heart that aches cannot be seen; hidden in a cave inside our chest.

Until one day it stops beating, and we lay so still while the tears of others fall on their laps.

They cry for us, their hearts filled with anguish, while a sleep so deep envelops us.

Monday, May 20, 2024 Miami, Florida

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When I Pause by Ileana Collazo When I pause, my mind takes over; leaving all undone tasks behind, guiding me to places I love, seeking sounds that soothe me.

The world around me becomes small, made up of things I overlook when I am rushing through my life and days too soon turn into nights.

Each minute then becomes a jewel I cherish more than strings of pearls I sometimes wrap it around my neck to tug at when I‘m nervous.

Kaleidoscopes of floating colors, the scent of flowers and blue skies, cocoon me.

After a while, I return to what we deem the norm, to wait impatiently until I find another rest stop.

Tuesday, April 2, 2024 Miami, Florida

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My wild soul drums to the rhythm of my beating heart I learned all I needed to know about writing poetry and creating visual art as a young girl in my grandmother's garden, where I sat doing what, as an adult, I call meditating. That quiet spot became my temple. Many years passed before I began to bring the creations conceived in my early daydreams to life. I started writing fiction and poetry, and then my mind exploded into a galaxy of colors, shapes, and movement as I began to paint on various surfaces, both digitally and with traditional media, and then added digital collage to my artistic spectrum. My art is representative of the twists and turns we take in the course of our daily lives, and of the awe-inspiring beauty that surrounds us. I was born in Cuba and have lived in Spain, New York, Vermont, and Massachusetts. I reside in Miami, Florida, where I work and play at Collazo Art Studio with my artist husband, four dogs, and cats in the yard. I strive to write poetry that touches the heart and create visual art that stimulates the senses.

Like a patchwork quilt, my words and art document my life experiences from communist Cuba to a haven in Spain, New England, and Florida. I am inspired by places and spaces that transform into layers of memories, shapes, and colors. My most recent exploration is my invention of HICAE (Human Intelligence Creative Artistic Expression) Digital Art Generated by IC, an intricate interchange between technology and the human brain. My artwork has been featured in group and solo exhibitions worldwide.

Artist Website: https://www.ileanacollazo.art YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCy8tVr3KhHKHK28_VdoPuww fivemuses@gmail.com 1-305-613-4725 1-305-613-4725

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The Scrapbook of My Mind

the treasure chest from which I pull out every dream my muse will use

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My daydreams were born in my grandmother’s garden

Alone in the Garden 7-4 | Ileana Collazo | Digital Collage

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If I Had Wings, I Would…

spread them wide and fly so high that I would see my past and future

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Special Edition Publication by:

https://issuu.com/fatimacanovas/docs/art_daily_news_international_magazi artailynewsinernational@gmail.com 1-305-425-9269

Copyright ©2025 Ileana Collazo, Collazo Art All Rights Reserved