A Witch's Path. . .

a path worth taking. . .



All is fair in love and war. . .

Diversity, is beautiful. 

I wake up everyday and dread getting out of bed. I feel like my mind will shut down or break down any minute. I’m irate and irritable. I’m lost and confused. I’m drowning, sinking into this emotional abyss. I’m angry at the world we’re living in, where hating someone because of the color of their skin, or the fact that they love someone of the same sex, or because a woman is fat, or because a man shows emotion, or because you don’t look, think, speak or feel like I do.

Diversity, is beautiful. The way you wear your hair, the cost of your clothes, the value of your education doesn’t make you better or worse than anyone on this earth. The light you give, the love you give, the soul you share with others . . . that is what matters; that is what counts.  I love fair skin and freckles. I love smooth dark skin. I love olive tones on some skin. I love Blue, Green and Hazel eyes , all the same, but beautifully different. I love men, I love women.

Someone in the grocery store today gave me a look. I fall into several diverse categories. I’m a woman. I’m of Latin descent. I’m obese. This man looked at me with disdain, nausea, disgust. Then he heard me speak. I’m 5 generation American. My English is impeccable and without accent. My Texas Southern Twang long gone since living in Florida. He looked away, huffed and rolled his eyes. The feeling in my gut at that moment was something I could not hold back.

I asked him if there was a problem. HE ignored me. I laughed. I was livid. So I asked again, at him directly to his face, “Sir, Is there a problem?”. My husband would say I’m problematic. FUCK THAT! This fat white bigot and all his trump-loving cronies are the fucking problematic ones. His answer, “Nope”. I smiled. “I didn’t think so”, I replied. Picked up my cheese and walked away with my head held high.

2 aisles down . . . Woman asking her son to tell her what something said (in Spanish). Her son struggles to read the label. He has to be about 6. I stop next to her and in Spanish, I ask what she’s looking for. As I’m speaking to her in my again, non-accented, impeccable Spanish, the man walks past. Staring at me. I smile and wave. He decides to look the other way. That’s right fucker, I’m a Spanish, Mexican, Native American mutt. I’m proud of it.

FUCK you! FUCK TRUMP! May the Gods, (old, new, many) bless this nation with peace, love and respect. I’m losing my patience. I’m losing my cool. That can’t happen.

Diversity is beautiful. Diversity is life.



Don’t close the door. . .

The silence is so deafening, the tears don’t want to stop. There is so much left unsaid, so many memories yet to be made. Now, I’m the only one left to share this memory. . .

One sunny, and hot Texas afternoon, I was little more than 6 years old, a beautiful woman knocked on the door. I wobbled over and opened it. A beautiful voice to match, she said something along the lines of “Is Francis home?” I closed the door. She was a stranger after all.

That was the first time I met my tia Glenda. I was the first person in her biological family that she had the pleasure of meeting. Knowing that we never got the chance to share more of our lives together makes my heart ache in a way that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.

Today, I would like to ask for prayers for my cousins. May their lives be filled with love and light so that there may be some semblance of filling for the hole that has been ripped into their lives. May they have the strength and courage to get through every wave that is yet to come, because there will be many. Let every holiday, birthday or anniversary to come,  be filled with wonderful memories of the woman who was their world.

I would also like to send a thought into the universe: Love, because it heals all things, forgives all things and creates all things. May love fill the hearts of every soul, even if for a moment. When that wave of love I send knocks on your door like a beautiful angel asking to come in. . . . Don’t close the door. . .

Dear Family,

This has been a hard year for me. I’ve been through so many emotional changes. I feel like it flew by because I was so busy putting out fires in my head and in my heart. I’ve fallen so many times in my life, I never found it as hard as I did this year to get back up. I’ve made all the wrong choices for all the wrong reasons. There is one thing that has forced me to keep getting up, to keep wiping away my tears and dusting off my ass: Family. My Dad, my sisters, my brothers, my nieces, my nephews, my cousins, mom. You all have kept me going.

This holiday season, as everyone goes out shopping and has all these special requests for specific gifts and such, all I want is for my family to know that I’m sorry for not being around, for not calling, for not reaching out. I just felt like I need to battle this out on my own. I want you all to know that all of you, are my reason for not giving up. Y’all are all I ever wanted all those years I was off drifting alone, doing who knows what with who knows who. Now, I have what I wanted: Family.

Now, I’m finding it hard to be a good daughter, a good sister, a good aunt, a good niece, a good friend even a good witch. I feel like if I get to close I’m, going to burn it all to hell. LOL So, I keep pulling away. I keep “keeping my distance”. So, I’m writing this because I give up, I need your help. I need help being a good everything. If I don’t call, call me. If I don’t text, text me. If You haven’t heard from me, reach out. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning and your text, phone call or sticker might be the one thing I needed today.

As I write everyone’s Holiday cards, I think carefully about what each one says, reminding all of you how much you mean to me. Please know I’m trying, I’m fighting and I’m keeping on, for all of you, because I know you are rooting for me. . . and I’m not one to “leave the stage in the middle of a song” . . .

Merry Christmas, Merry Yule, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Diwali, Ramadan Mubarak, Happy Kwanzaa, and a Joyous Winter Solstice to everyone the world over.


4-4 against our children. . .

As I sit here and listen to the President speak about our fight as Latinos, to keep our families together, all I can think about is my neighbors, my friends and my family who all know, and some are, illegal immigrants trying to make a better life for themselves and their children. I am 4th generation Mexican American. My family is international. I have relatives from El Salvador, Columbia, Guatemala, Mexico, Nicaragua, Brazil; whether they are married in, or adopted in, they are my family!

I think about all the children in my life and what it would be like for them to lose their mom or dad to deportation and tears spring to my eyes because  it devastates me! Now think about the 4 million immigrants who are here to get away from hunger, poverty, violence and their governments. Let’s say that they each have 1 child. . . Now let’s imagine that all 4 million get deported. . . . that means 4 million children. . . 4 MILLION INNOCENT CHILDREN. . . will be put into foster care, or group homes, or with family . . . but none of those people, will ever be mom or dad.

These children will probably have to change schools, they will adjust. They will probably have to make new friends, they will flourish. They will probably be bullied for not having parents, they will overcome. . . . Or they won’t, they may fall through the cracks and become delinquents. They may grow up to be drug addicts or worse. These are our children. These are our INNOCENT children.

Every single one of those children will fall under the responsibility of the United States Government. Can you imagine what anywhere from 2-4 million children entering the system would do to the system? What it would do to our economy?… What it would to to the children?

These are all what if scenarios, right? These are potential outcomes to deporting over 4 million people. Separating 4 million families. Are you one of those families? Do you know one of those families? Don’t take these suppositions lightly. Take voice, Speak up. Don’t let 4-4 against our children be the end of this war. We must carry on and continue fighting.

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It’s not fair

It hurts to much to think about

All the things I put you through

It brings a tear to my eye knowing

How much this must hurt you


If only I could take it back

If I could turn back time

If only I could heal the pain

I caused when you were mine


No time no place no mystery

Will ever begin to compare

To all the love an history

That you and I have shared


The battle lies within my heart

As it always does

But this time it tore us apart

This won’t be as it was


I know that time will heal you

And maybe one more beer

One thing I know will remain true

I’ll forever live in fear


I fear I won’t forget you

I fear that I won’t move on

It really breaks my heart in two

Yet time will carry on


Somehow I never find the words

That truly can describe

The pain I feel when you aren’t there

The way I feel alive


I know I can’t compare you

Because truly no one does

It’s really just not fair for you two

No one said life was

Se que te amo . . .

Porque cuando me besas me teletransporto a otro lugar donde todo es paz
Porque cuando me abrazas me siento a salvo
Porque cuando estamos de la mano el mundo se vuelve de colores
Porque cuando pienso en ti se alegra mi ser
Porque cuando no estoy a tu lado siento la necesidad de verte
Porque cuando hablo contigo siento esas cosquillas en el estomago, como siempre.
Se que te amo porque en difinitiva cuando estoy contigo mi vida se vuelve feliz

y lo unico que puedo pensar, sentir or decir es  . . . TE AMO. . .
Gracias . . . por ser parte de mi vida


Si te vuelvo a ver . . .

La próxima vez que me veas traeré su anillo y su apellido. El dolor que me causabas ahora se ha vuelto irrelevante, ya que su amor sigue siendo la cura. Mi corazón, fue roto por las muchas guerras emocionales que ambos nos dedicábamos, pero me ha besado esas cicatrices y atesora mi corazón como si nunca fue tocado. Tu versión del amor me dejo herida. Su versión del amor será mi refugio seguro para toda la vida. Tú fuiste la tormenta, él es mi refugio, el gana. . . .

Poema de Amor

Pienso en ti cada momento
No se como me paso
Cierro los ojos y te siento
Cerca de mi corazón

Cada dia estas mas dentro
De mi alma y de mi piel
Se que no me lo meresco
Aun asi el amor crece

Se me olvido quien quise antes
Ni su nombre ya me se
De mi alma arrancaste
Todo el dolor aquel

Ya te llevo tan adentro
Que me duele ni pensar
Que en verdad no eres mio
Y esto fracasara

Se tu corazon es de otra
Y un dia me dejaras
Aun asi te voy amando
Y no te dejare de amar

Tal vez un dia te des cuenta
Que me amas tu a mi
Que el destino juega chueco
Y si eres para mi


Change is hard . . . part 2: Change will be harder. . .

Four months ago, I decided to start making some changes to my eating habits. -40 later I’m feeling really good about those changes. However, I could work harder, I could eat better and I could treat myself nicer. New goals:

Never feign to be what you are not.

Throw away all that harms you.

Do not aim to possess something that is not yours.

Everything comes in its own time, and right on time.

Know respect.

Find my divinity.

Be firm. Always.

Be responsible. Always.

. . . and most importantly, try to be understanding of the people around me, I haven’t walked in their shoes, I haven’t lived their life, I don’t know what they are going through.

Love and Light to you all!

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