Battling a Darkness 


How do I awaken 

from this ashen dream

so dark and distressing 

a blood curdling nightmare

I long to escape this stench

this realm of oppression

where vibes are dissonant 

and quakes tremble in us

We see things so differently 

a contrasting lens

where our morals vary

and chaos is heightened

My arms encircle

my righteous self 

grasping onto love 

harder and tighter 


suddenly, I realize

there is no escape 

I am a piece of the whole

an enlightening being

with head bowed, praying

that the flare of night stars

scintillate through me

ablaze, like midday sun 

I pray that truths sear 

through penetrative virtues 

clamorous enough

to enkindle other souls 

we must dig into ourselves

and correct the corrupt

to embolden each other

raising levels of consciousness

the jungle out there

reflects the jungle within

a space that craves healing

and bundles of love

I’ve noticed…

inhumane injustices

has been your elopement

from the fears that eat you

and masticate at your heart

You seem to be turned on

by the clank of rusty shackles

the ones you try to keep on me

as you’re deafened by the gag 

of your own choking spirit

You may not know it 

but you are dying,

you are dying a slow death

one organ at a time

I feel disheartened for you

it must be torturous 

to be so consumed 

by fear and hatred–

it’s too bad knowing

your ancestors misinformed you,

they led you to believe

we were created differently

They taught you how to hate

and take what’s not yours,

to value money more than life

stealing breaths of the innocent

This dream became scary

as I watched the lost souls

wandering and searching

yearning to be to complete

on the expense of my

brothers and sisters

You will never be happy

You could never be complete,

until the disbursement

of our overdue reparations.

Good thing, 

my people and I 

are unexplainably resilient

and you will soon see

our light shine above

the horizon of every tomorrow

in spite your effort

to destroy us.

©2016 Liza Morales 


Sweetener 27/30


I like my coffee hot, real hot. I prefer it bold and robust and lightly sweetened. Sometimes, I use flavored creamers to sweeten it, other times I use organic raw sugar.
I must say, every time I use sugar, I can’t help but think of my island, Puerto Rico and its rich production of sugar in the 19th century. I can’t help being reminded of the hourless days they toiled under grave conditions, for pennies a day. I can’t help but think of all the slaves that were imported for the greed of gluttons. I can’t help but think of how Puerto Rico’s sugar industry was manipulated, drained of their resources and ultimately dominated by outside capital, the United States.

sugar industry
arable land, plantations
stolen molasses.

©2016 Liza Morales

(Haibun poetry)