• This is a Telegram from the Dark
• Ten Tears
• Hay Poder en Esto
• In Panama There is a Plant
• Love Is, Part 1
• Love Is, Part 2
• Love Is, Part 3

This is a Telegram from the Dark (2003)

* stop * See me * stop * I am the invisible woman * stop * I am sending you this message from the darkness of endlessly unrecognized days * stop * Ignore my beauty * stop * my intelligence * stop * my talent for word and image * stop * I have endured all kinds of atrocities and obscenities because somehow my invisibility has indicated that I warrant no respect * stop *

You have both visibility and sound * stop * Make them listen to the thunderous roar of my cry * stop * Their inability to see me has justified their deliberate ignorance of easily rectifiable injustices * stop * They hear what I say * stop * they just see nothing * stop * wrong * stop *

I am the invisible woman * stop * Do you see me fading * stop * My power is in my hips * stop * and my hips are thinning * stop * What difference does it make * stop * When they can stare right through me anyway * stop * Tell them if they think these injustices are due to my invisibility * stop * based on the sensitivity of my thin soul * stop * They better be prepared * stop * because if the same thing happens to them * stop * the perpetrator * stop * can always say * stop * that he or she thought they were invisible * stop *

Tell them the bare minimum that one human being owes another is the right to choose * stop * At no time is it acceptable for you to force your body on my body * stop * I always have the choice * stop * of what * stop * and where * stop * and who * stop * happens to my body * stop *

And tell them when I follow the instructions I read last summer to school children * stop * Mi Cuerpo es Mio * stop * and they do not respond * stop * Tell them their inability to recognize * stop * and value * stop * the power of words * stop * when their profession is based on them * stop * is a sheer disappointment * stop *

The pain of silence and invisibility is draining the life out of me * stop * and if they don't think the words * stop * You might not like this but I'm going to do it anyway * stop * aren't fit to be any rapist's motto * stop * they need to * stop * and think * stop * think * stop * and see * stop * me * stop * Don't let them stop me * stop * I am the invisible woman

Ten Tears (2003)

Over Ten Years, I've cried at least ten tears for every one of you. Tired transient souls transforming I love yous into I don't knows. All the unfortunate times they've tried to take you have taxed your weary soul.

You are the skipping needle hovering above a broken record of "why didn't he just ask?" Because at his request you would have given your ten toes, last two dollars, and a live rose, If only he'd honored your No, No, No's.

And are you the only one to realize 'This won't sew the edges of his torn soul'? You have tried so to get by and deny the seriousness of the incident, but still I sit and cry: Ten Years for every two tears of 'Why?' & every blink to keep them from tumbling over the brim of your eyes.

Ten for every touch you feared and every stare that seared right through your heart. Ten tears for every time your mind tried to tell you you forgot, that he is really innocent, or that you are the one who should repent.

So I cry for each time you've tried to convince yourself: 'Maybe things didn't happen just so' or 'Maybe he didn't hear me say, NO, NO, NO.'

Hay Poder en Esto/There is Power in This (2004)

There is life
There is life
There is life

There are bright things
New days
New ways to look at the same old thing

There are colorful ways to look at the same old thing

Old things become new each day in new light

New light brings new color and new energy

And even old things
Seen the same old way
Can be beautiful
Like sunrise
and leaves
And even old things change
Every sunrise
Every tree leaf

If you look around
You will see
Change
Steadily
Surrounds you

There is power in this
Hay Poder en Esto

In Panama There is a Plant (2007)

In Panama there is a plant, often overlooked as it creeps through sidewalk cracks and nestles roads. It is my favorite green thing.

This plant is sensitive. It fears touch. Strangers. Strange fingers, or toes, or rubber sneaker soles. Its leaves resemble palm tree fronds. And yet, it does something no palm tree is capable of: at the slightest unwanted touch this plant clamps shut, shielding itself from the world.

I imagine this plant is open to rain, that it loves breeze, that its senses are fine tuned to screen friend from foe. I imagine it knows when the threat is gone, that at that moment it reopens, stretching its green limbs to the sun.

I've never seen the leaves reopen. I feel guilty now for playing with this plant I love, teasing it with branches, and finger tips, and shoe soles.

This plant is a reflection of me. I've learned when to spring shut. When to shield my heart and soul to unwanted touch, unsought attention, hostile energy. I've learned when I can miss the sun and hide in my own shade. I have learned to value those who don't trigger my fronds, startle my leaves, cramp me into spaces where I feel unsafe.

I know rain from fingers, friend from foe.

When my skin prickles, I know it's not the way the wind has blown.

The man I love is breeze, sunlight. With him my leaves lay open. His light gently caresses my leaves. I find no reason to be closed.

With him my leaves lay open.
He does not toy with my uniqueness. He never teases my leaves to watch me spring shut. He does not push the edges of my boundaries. He does not creep near me or search for me between the cracks.

He waits for me patiently.
I reach for him with my open palms.
He nurtures my open heart.

Love Is, Part 1, (2007)

The two-level mansion has high ceilings, a small courtyard, and long balconies, which wrap around the second floor's stretch of large double doors. The mayor's office restored the building and reserved it as a space to showcase Panamanian art and culture.

The first person to arrive to the closing reception/artist talk was a student in his last year of architecture school. As we sat waiting for others to arrive he asked, "Do you feel that?" - "What?" I asked.

"The house is built on these little wheels" he replied "It was built to resist tremors. So it rolls, slightly, when the ground shakes in any way. When the cars or trucks pass, you can feel the floor shift."

This new information explained the mild seasickness I felt at times in this building. On occasion it seems like the world was tipping, ever so slightly.

People trickled in slowly, the majority of them arrived about 30 minutes late (right on time).

In an effort to create an atmosphere that will allow for an open dialogue centered on love, I stood in the center of the circle of chairs, with a large bag of chocolate, and wondered out loud:

"I brought chocolate," (Someone yelled, "to bribe us") "not only to bribe you, but because it is said that it is the chemical equivalent of love, and because it is interesting how if you meet someone and right away you give them chocolate they are grateful, but if right away you give them love, they are... sometimes... terrified."

"I want to know what love is for you. Tell us a love story, or tell us that you believe or don't believe in love, share your perception of love..."

This turned out to be a lovely time.

Love Is, Part 2, (2007)

The dialogue switched seamlessly back and forth between English and Spanish. I began by telling the story of two of my friends: Elvia and Martha (la otra Marta). It is the story of two leaps of faith, and a journey to Austria to meet love.

Cleveland spoke of healthy love: the love that empowers you to create and build.

A friend of Cleveland's, explained that Cleveland and I knew each other when we met. He said we loved each other immediately, because we've always known each other. "Love" he claimed "bridges time and space and place. It is possible that all moments exist simultaneously, all things happening at once, and that you have known each other before and always."

People began to speak of divine love, of self-love, of loving love.  One young woman excitedly described why she loves love: "Love is a word that is a verb and a noun." She listed all the things she loves loving "I love to dance love, to read love, to love..."

There was Lee Love, who introduced herself and added, "Really, that is my name. I married Mr. Love." And Lee's cousin Vida, whose name means beloved in English and life in Spanish. They spoke of a love for travel, family love, loving each individual as they are, and never letting a moment pass to say "I love you."

One gentleman described falling in love with the woman who came to dress a wound on his back he couldn't reach. This woman, a stranger, a friend of friends, would gingerly change his bandages twice a day: first thing in the morning, last thing at night. "Now," he steadily declared, "We are married, and I would do anything for her."

As my friend, who has a one year old son, began to speak, her eyes filled with tears. She reported that the intense love she can speak of is the one she is experiencing now, a parent's love: her parent's love for her, her love for her child. "I cannot find the words to express... the feeling of it" she said.

My sister-in-law, who glows with self-love, described discovering its importance. She said "I learned the most about love when I was the furthest from it: When I moved to the states for school, and I was away from everyone and everything I knew, everyone and everything I loved."

Love Is, Part 3, (2007)

Two or three people were overwhelmed with the enormity of the question: "Love is everything," "It is immense," and "it is all things" followed by shrugs, and silence.

My dad spoke of 30 years of marriage, and recommended the experience of being a father. Meanwhile, my mom affirmed, "I am learning more about love everyday, and that is surprising... Love is surprising."

A young woman spoke of finding love everywhere "I believe there is love in all living creatures," she explained "and maybe even in some inanimate objects, like rocks. I can identify with rocks. For a long time I was a rock. Cold, distant and unfeeling, but now... now I am a different person."

A college student told the story of the day her father was kidnapped for two hours before being returned to her family unharmed. "From this experience," she asserted, "I learned to love each moment, and to never let a moment go by without appreciating the people around me."

Hearing all these experiences and expressions of love reminded me that to love (ourselves and others) is a choice. It is a brave choice.

For me loving is a choice that overpowers the negative experiences in my life. My ability to continue to love, to trust, and believe in people propels me beyond the reach of anyone who has tried to harm me.

And the most magical part is this: I find myself part of a community of people who are unafraid to love me back. Our hearts are built on tiny little wheels, adapted to withstand heartache. It's not that we haven't experienced the turbulence of betrayal. It's just that we haven't let it shatter us.

Essentially, we recycle love. Love flows in all directions, freely and abundantly, and we shift with the occasional disturbance, but are never rocked off our foundation.

This is what love is. It is an ancient house built on wheels.