Three Poems

By Daniella Diaz

Anxiety

We met when I was eight.

You made me confess graphic thoughts of everyone I loved

dying.

I pleaded between prayers, kneeling on padded pews:

Please make me normal

I squeezed my eyes shut. Nothing.

3 Hail Marys, 1 Our Father.

Father, help me.

Nothing.

I thought I locked you behind doors.

I know because as I circled the house,

(front door, back door, garage)

I checked 1, 2, 3 times to make sure.

But I tiptoed into my room and you were still there,

under the bed, outside the window, in the closet,

watching me as I slept.

Present.

And here you are still.

You lay in bed with me

and him,

reminding me not to sleep on my side,

so my stomach won’t hang over.

So he can’t drift over to me in his sleep,

put his arm around me, pull me into his big spoon

and hold

all the parts of me I hate.

And here you are still.

You lace yourself into the words I write,

(as if they were yours)

reminding me that there’s no book,

only manuscripts I’ll finish when I have the time,

when I’m not so stressed,

when I have more money.

When you’re no longer here.

I don’t know how old I was when I began to question myself,

but I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.

I wish I remembered a version of me that believed in herself.

A Me that jumped off rooftops into swimming pools.

A Me that climbed trees until I fell and broke my arm.

A Me that danced even when people were watching.

Maybe she’d still be with me now

instead of you.

Don’t Eat That

I don’t mean to hide when I’m eating.

I guess I’m just used to it now—

after years of hiding my snacking from Papi, who never forgot to tell me:

“there’s no way you can be hungry again,”

“we just ate,”

“what are you eating?"

“don’t eat that.”

Years of guilty force feeding because I

refused to let shame fill me,

refused to let pain fill me.

So instead I used food.

I don’t mean to lie when I’m hungry,

but it’s been years since

I’ve given myself the freedom to eat,

to be full.

I guess I’m always left unsatisfied,

but also,

“how can you still be hungry, Daniella?”

I try on clothes that don’t fit me so I’ll have a reason to stop eating.

I reach into the back of my closet,

grab the dress I refuse to return because

I’ll fit into it someday,

squeeze myself in, wipe the sweat from my brow,

and pull

at the fabric cinched my hips,

refusing to make its way up.

I pause this poem to make a sandwich to fill me before the scraps I’ll eat in front of you.

I pray you don’t catch me eating it.

So you’ll think I’m delicate,

dainty, perhaps even,

small.

I Swallowed Tears for You

I glued duct tape over my lips to speak to you,

so you could be heard,

so you could be valued,

so you could be loved the way you wanted to.

I lost my voice,

pushed her down my throat until she was

so deep inside of me

I could only hear her lonely screams

trying to escape through sealed lips.

And they wake me,

in violent winds that smash against our windows,

strong, but

sad.

At night she speaks to me in

the parables she used to whisper to the moon.

The ones she knew would be heard,

when she was free,

when she was she.

I swallowed tears for you,

shoveled them into buckets on the closet floor,

so you’d never know.

So you’d never have a reason to tell me to stop,

to make me believe they overflow often,

too often.

Someday, I’ll rip the tape from my mouth and

speak the words she howls in the wind at night,

but this time, you’ll be awake.

This time, you’ll hear me.

This time, you’ll listen.

Daniella Alejandra Diaz is a Venezuelan-American who has used poetry to heal, grow, and learn for over twenty years. The Scholastic Gold Key Recipient in Poetry earned a B.A. in English at Florida International University. Daniella has been a featured writer on several online platforms in New York City and Miami. Daniella most recently released her debut poetry album titled Mamita, which intimately tells stories of identity, self-worth, love, and much more. Currently, she's working on her debut novel as well as a collection of poetry. She also works as a freelance copy writer, content writer, screenwriter, editor, and proofreader. Listen to Mamita on all digital streaming platforms or follow this link: https://linktr.ee/daniella_alejandra
IG: daniella_alejandra