When We Feel Helpless. Are You Facing An Overwhelming Problem

The poems in this section are about the hardships of life and the problems that people have to face, yet there is an undertone of hope in them too, the problems may not be solved, but the poems show that there is a sense of faith in human resilience.

Everyday is a repeat of the day before. Only with each new day, there is a new happening added to the day before, if only the flutter of a butterfly’s wing, that adds a new ripple across the pond, or the web of the banana spider, that grows larger, with each new day. The birth of new life, or the death of the flesh body, that leaves the soul to bleed, crying out asking WHY? What now? Where shall I go? What shall I do?

The message I want to convey is that you should never give up. No one has control over you, but yourself. So, don’t let anyone push you down. There will be darkness at times in your life but reach out to those who love you, fore they will bring out the light you need and give you strength. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr once said, “darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do

It’s a struggle to get out of bed sometimes, I often just sit there struggling to comprehend the sequence of events which have taken place over the past year. I mean, I’m used to this now, its normal to me, but the fact that this has happened and that I am now ‘disabled’ as people would put it is hard to get my head around. And every time I look down I’m reminded of the pain and the struggle I faced, it’s a physical scar which links me to my grueling past, a physical and emotional journey.

Growing up in San Francisco was not easy. My life has been a up hill battle. I’vealways been a free spirited person. Always loved sometimes loved the wrong people. I grew up in San Francisco. Most people think of San Francisco as this wonderful free love place. Well it’s not this wonderful free love place. Fillmore is what my neighborhood was called. This Fillmore place was a very dark violent place. Many don’t make it out. Either you die young, or you go out on drugs. I always wanted more out of life. I always felt that if I could escape this dark unkind place I would be a better person. Sometimes as a child I would dream of living in a real family setting. You know a father that lived with my mother and I. “A real family not a dysfunctional one”. School has always been a outlet for me. I could go to school and learn, learn, learn. I’ve always been

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

The first line. It feels like our lot in life is to live in a constant struggle. The struggle. That is what it is. Every day. Will it be good? Bad?- RA, NYC

A while back when my mom and I were discussing the 43 missing Ayotzinapa students she abruptly remembered a powerful quote from her Facebook timeline, it read: “Quisieron enterrarnos, pero se les olvido que somos semillas” (They tried to bury us. They didn't know we we're seeds). The message resonated within me ever since; it reminds me that no matter how many struggles I encounter in my life, I’ll always prevail.

I never thought I would return home until I was an old lady, or, at least, someday with my entire family. Instead, there I was, underneath the celestial sky, on the side of the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains, in the town that I once lived in: La Esperanza. That night, a cool breath of air blew throughout the corners and curves of the cobblestone streets flapping the curtains of cement houses around like the skirt of a dancing woman. As I walk through the streets, the night cannot put the living to rest. Small children with dirt-streaked faces and hole-ridden clothes ran around the streets playing

Morning arrived yet this time with a cheerful face of my mother and my healing brother’s smile. For the first time, this felt like home exactly, the way we lived 2 years back with warmth and happiness echoing in our house. I almost forgot the comfort of sitting on a couch or laying on a bed beside my mother. The aroma of her devouring food filled the house and the riddles of my ever loved brother never stopped, now, I had no need to keep track of

Probably out in the city of my dreams, light and stars, everything seemed to be perfect in my eyes. But the truth is, ashes are covered by people’s smiles, secrets, and sweet words. In the bright streets, souls are trying to find their purpose by running with fear and hope. Fear to find their path and to fail, to drown without achieving it. Yet, hope to find their real self that is bury underneath the world of deception. Hope in knowing that there are truths hidden in the

This poem resonates deeply with me because it offers a different perspective to any challenges and hard times a person can face. Throughout my sophomore and junior year of high school, my attitude towards life was not optimistic. I grew towards pessimism, and would simply go through my days waiting, begging for the day to be over. I, like the narrator, had "out walked the furthest city light." I can remember just sitting through one of Coach Day's math classes and closing my eyes, envisioning the 2:55 p.m announcements coming on, and knowing that I would be able to go home.

Yesterday I saw everyone buried under the weight of their deep sombre expressions. It was like society was dead! I was itching to bring joy and remove their stress. I could feel the happiness waiting to burst free. I arrived home and when I saw sunlight still dancing on the roofs of the street, I decided to dance with it! I leapt, tangoed, and

Are we supposed to feel sorry for no one? These are the question that a person is left with. Is it more Alexander Pushkin work of putting too much together in at once or is the supernatural idea leaving us confused? These questions are asked more when you have so much to imagine since it is so

A ways away from a town that I call home, I found a happy place. I often find myself walking through the park by myself. The beautiful trees, the way the yellow and red leaves crumple under my feet every step I take. When the flowers bloom and how it's the most spectacular sight you could ever imagine seeing, all the different colors that appear. When you breathe in and you get this smell of purity, you feel free and alive. Sometimes I like to sit on the old wooden bench where the bench frame is a little rusted, and I get rid of my thoughts and my eyes search the sky. In the winter the icy breeze makes me shiver, and the cold air I take in, is like sitting in front of an air conditioner and breathing in. Some mornings the sun beams across the sky, which is not quite blue yet, but the sun has almost fully risen. When the wind blows, it grazes over the blades of grass. Some days I just stand and take a deep breath in and I can taste the spring. When summer comes around, and the bees are buzzing, and the hot sun beats on the back of my neck, I lay on the soft grass and listen, to the birds chirping a beautiful song, and the kids playing in the park. The sky is the bluest view in sight.