Know Yourself #8

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If all jobs paid the same, what would you choose to do?

The first career path I chose for myself was at age 12.
I was going to be a writer.
A published and successful author.

Throughout high school, I was told once, then twice, and on repeat, until I changed my mind, that being a writer wasn’t a game plan. My guidance counselor made it clear; writing was a hobby. Journaling was good self-care. Poetry was an excellent form of self-expression.

Writing wasn’t a career, at least not one that would pay the bills or be well-respected.

So I…

A reflection on how and why we do this

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I did a thing recently — I published a poetry collection.

I did the writing and editing.
I researched a program to typeset it.
I learned how to create a cover.
I went through the process of self-publishing.
I’m currently in the process of marketing.

None of these things are part of my day job. Everything I learned throughout this process was new and terrifying and something (most of the time) I convinced myself I couldn’t do.

If there is one thing most of us are really good at doing, it’s telling ourselves we can’t do something.

The one thing…

Know Yourself #53

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What conversation do you need to have today, and with whom?

I lost my grandfather in 2007. It wasn’t just losing him that was hard, the weeks that preceded his death were incredibly traumatic. He’d lost his sight years earlier, but in the end, Lewy-Body dementia was the thief that stole him away entirely.

They say people suffering this type of mental decline can become the opposite of who they previously were in their life. Maybe they used to be quiet and reserved, and now they’re quite the chatterbox. Perhaps they used to be quick-witted, but now they’re withdrawn and moody.

The most kind, gentle, and loving man turned into a…

A Poem on the Realities of Leaving

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What are you reporting?
A decade of pain


Did he hit you?
He cut me off at the knees,
bringing me lower than
six feet under.
He ripped out my larynx
so I could no longer speak
for myself.


Did you do anything to provoke him?
I breathed as quietly as I could.
Took up the least amount of space.
I did everything to keep the peace.
Until today, until this day, I chose to speak out.
Today I chose to put myself first —
I couldn’t walk on eggshells another day.

Not intentionally

I’m sorry ma’am, there…

A Poem from ‘All The Ways I Loved You’

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I’ve loved you more ways
than I can count.
More infinite than stars
in the night sky — twinkling
opalescent bursts of energy,
carrying wishes for hopeful hearts.

I’ve loved you more ways
than words can express.
I cannot speak of the
adoration I have for you.
Endearment, devotion —
do not hold a candle.

I’ve loved you more ways
than consciousness
is aware of — eternally grateful.
For you visit me
in a dreamless sleep.
A welcome disruption
of my minds-eye.

Eternally changed
forever entranced.
Muse and lover
the best of all worlds.

The beginning of my end. In…

A Poem

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Locking the door
behind me — for a
moment of respite.

Heavy boots
at a quickened pace.
Pounding — Banging
A raised voice
and shattering of another
piece of irreplaceable
china against the wall.

Doorknob rattling,
shaking, twisting
within its confines.

Eerie silence falls over
the scene. Not a word.

Nothing above a whisper
but fervent prayers for
an ending —
labored breathing
from the other side.

A hush. Exhale.

Deep, hesitant
breaths, to slow the
pounding of my heart
in my chest, in my ears.

Fists held so tight
releasing them hurts.


No choice but to…

A Poem

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I wasn’t looking for you when we met.

Was it fortune?
Or perhaps serendipity?

I don’t believe in silver linings
or that some things are simply
meant to be — Seen too much,
lived too much to know better.

I’m not bitter, though I carry
melancholy in my heart.

The brighter side of things
aren’t easy for me to find.
When darkness follows me
like a heavy cloud
from place to place.

Can you tell me why
I caught your eye?

Another sad beautiful
girl for you to woo.
Your charisma
and sunny outlook
are so foreign to me.


A Poem

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Can’t concentrate on
the task at hand, on things that
must be done, I find
my mind, wandering in all
sorts of directions
— never
in the direction
I need it to go —
that I want it to go.

is fueling my
to be confident,
and proud
of achievements I’d
only dreamed about before.

Inner critic says,
you aren’t good enough
you aren’t anything special,

what makes you think, you
have the right?

I silence her
with one question —
Why not me?

Deep down it feels like it could be — should be the beginning to…

Estrella Ramirez

Coffee fanatic, with a dramatic inner dialogue — a poet and Historical fiction enthusiast, longing for a time that’s gone — an old soul — Writer of fiction

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