I have found refuge in memories and moments that I can’t seem to let go of 
conversations with my grandmothers echo over and over
she told us - that if love is done right, you get to fall in love an infinite amount of times with the same person as you both endlessly evolve into who you are becoming
understand that nothing is meant to stay the same, growth is the only proof that life is occurring
and my grandfather always stressed to pay attention to los detalles [pon atencion]
if you know love and give love in its purest form, you will comprehend what life is.
that which is both priceless and timeless.
I want my touch to feel familiar like waking up to your moms favorite music los sábados por la mañana
quiero que nos pregunten como viejitos, what worked for us? and like a flawed key, le seguí encontrando maña
I wanna leave my fingerprints engraved in your knuckles from when we hold hands.
that encryption unlocking what destiny already had planned.
I want the music we experience together to feel orchestrated specifically to how you and I dance
I want to love you in such abundance that my heart develops stretch marks, if that even make sense
I want to share a treasure box of forever moments and a photo album of unforgettable experiences
I want to tailor what love is supposed to feel like, and make it to just fit you
Los detalles in you and about you is all that’s ever mattered, because it has always been you.

Los Detalles (Beat Prod. by Dior)

*Preface: This is what I'd imagine my Grandfather's first day in heaven was like, writing a letter to my Grandma*

Llegue al cielo el 2 de Noviembre of 2005
I arrived at what felt all too familiar to our family cookouts, a collection of moments or more so a feeling that felt frozen in time
I stumbled through the space como si estuviera borracho, I was drunk off knowing I have never been here before, but feeling it was exactly where I was supposed to be.
You see, my heart marched to the cadence of a traditional tamponado, bucandote a ti.
No matter how far I ever strayed from home, era solo para rastrear mis pasos parar regresarme a ti.
You’ve taken to me to places I never thought I’d see, feel, or be… in.
So wherever that may be, wherever that may lead, wherever we may go - I’m okay with, so long as it is always you and me.
Because even here feels too far.
Too far from where toasts were made with caguamas that rang like church bells.
Too far from the air that still carry’s your perfume
Too far from your garden of prayers
Too far from your laugh that served as perfect decor
See this place feels like distance memories that I’m not ready to let go of.
And yet it feels so much like you.
You have always been my guardian angel.
I just wish I would’ve known then when we spoke about heaven we were really talking about you.
If I could, I would send you angels every day to remind you that I love you more - not more than you love me, but more than the distance that currently stands between us, more than the wrinkle in time this will be, and more than I ever learned to show and tell you.
Espero que sepas que nunca fue mi intención de dejarte otra vez sola encargada de los niños.
You see, they tried to assign me my wings
But what good does it do me to fly so high, when you look smaller and inaccesible from the view
One lifetime is not enough, it was not enough and therefore I will wait for you
Our moments are dreams I am still too afraid to wake up from - I want to wake up next to you.
I will wait for you, yo te esperare.

Wait 4 You

my mother's spirit was broken at a very young age..
& ever since then she's not found a way of piecing together the jagged edges that are now cutting into her heart, her faith, her prayers, and her light. 
she never sought help..
she never once prayed for herself..
my mother left home - to build a new.
my mother was a mess - but we never knew..
or never allowed ourselves to see.
because she had not convinced me, but more so had proven to me that should could take on it all..
and never once said it was too much.. to handle herself ya'll.

my mother out of guild tried to swallow her pride and culture..
the inside of her mouth became a prison of all sharp things she never dared to say..
it's no wonder she spoke broken english.
she sheltered so much with only God bearing witness..
listen - she never spoke out because it hurt.
her worth was blurred by the insecurities her broken spirit had nourished..
she'd lectured me on ALWAYS knowing my self worth - she taught me this lesson over and OVER again because she'd never learned it herself..

momma - you are worthy.
I didn't speak english until I was in the 5th grade - and then it was TOO early..
too early to realize how important that would be for the rest of my life.
you are MORE than proper pronunciation..
momma - you are THE reason in why I now take so much pride in my ancestry..
you were asking me what inspired me..
it was YOU.
we come from kings and queens..
but I came from YOU.
we come from a very rich culture..
but I was funded by YOU.
we come from a very family oriented foundation..
and I got to share those experiences with YOU.
we come from places we were NEVER supposed to make it out of.. 
and here I am, counting my blessings.. with YOU.

Broken English

Mama Rosa: “y el, con los botes - hay como juntaba botes. llegaba con el carro ese, el la esa que cargaba y rosado de tantas bolsas. me salía luego luego a ayudarle a cargar, y luego dije vamos para que comas, yo te ayudo a machucar.” 

I remember my grandfathers hands being that like sand paper..
though rough, their sole purpose was to smoothen out the surface of everything that they come into contact with..
his palms had been architected by years of manual labor..
and his finger prints were maps of home..
so my grandmothers blessing were shared directions of the hand she once got to hold..
she used to share treasure maps with us, and I didn’t even know..

Mama Rosa: “es como un martillo, pero mira hacíamos un batidero y sas sas sas y haci los machucaba y juntaba unos y se los echaba en la otra bolsa y hasta que acababa. y luego se iba devuelta, ya tarde ya cuando almorzaba, se iba.”

I used to listen to my grandmother fumble through her memories 
searching for the most vivid moments that were all too tied with familiar emotions that would take her back to that very moment she once shared with him
I’d watch her get so frustrated when she couldn’t find the words to paint to the picture she could clearly feel
what they shared was real.
see she meant forever, and forever seemed like an eternity when she realized that she’d have to live that out without him.
she’d found him - found characteristics of him in every single one of us.
and she made sure to let us know - that she was never in attendance alone but was a representation of them both.
I watched her grow old, but her memories never aged.
I promised her I wouldn’t race against time to find someone worth meeting her.
she said todo a su tiempo, all in due time.
I told her it would be hard to give somebody the world when I’d lose a piece of mine.
she said she’s always be there, in spirit of course.
I’ve found myself chasing their ghosts wanting to ask who will I get to share with what they taught me, feeling that they already know.
I could hear them laughing, saying I’m way too in a rush to grow old.

Mama Rosa: “nosotros estuvimos bien agustos de casados - yo, toda mi familia, pos es el. el NUNCA me golpeo, pos Dios me esta oyendo, pero el nunca me golpeó y estábamos muy bien.”

Growing Old Too Fast

I am a dual citizen whose been struggling to find home.
my parents gardened their seeds the same way my grandparents taught them on the lands where they from 
but this new soil was foreign
the climate, the language, and culture was all new for them
their values have forever been rooted in faith, family, and mariachi music in the mornings
they could only teach us what they knew
I am a reconfigured definition that better suits - not who we are but more so who we are becoming.
not being so committed to this idea of what we come from, but more so falling in love in us continuously evolving and becoming comfortable with rewriting certain values..
it’s like changing the lyrics of our favorite songs - or more so becoming the remixes
that you and future generations would care to listen to.
“calladita no te miras más bonita” your voice adds value too
go chase your own bag, career, and purpose and never grow dependent of anyone - and become the example you longed for too. 
“los hombres no lloran” I’m hoping is followed by, porque han aprendido como expresarse -
we were never taught how to heal, just simple survive - we’ve experience trauma, and pride has never allowed us to pursue understanding of what’s caused it.
our character becomes a collection of our experiences
we ought to grow stronger together through our differences
see sometimes my spanish is as broken as my english is
I got potna’s and family serving time and others pursuing doctorates 
I’m a splitting image of my father, but we are complete opposites.
I am proud of my heritage, my roots, and grandparents sacrifices
I’m a modern day scholar from the hood, a complex epitome of a beautifully remixed classics and
I’m nor here or from there, I’m not this or just that - I’m a collection of all of it.

I am home

Dual Citizenship

it’s not so much that I have tried defying the odds, 
as to me aiming to redefine what that’s supposed to mean.
a living juxtaposition - rooted in ancestral history bridging that and my grandmothers wildest dreams
I have yet to be acquitted of stereotypes that I was and that I am still the prime definition for.
but I want my mother to know that, that has never been a burden or ever made me ashamed of where they and where I come from.
little to nothing - running parallels to what they expect us to become.
I’ve been running towards something and not running away from..
my past, or my home.
see my grandparents were farm workers, and my parents blue collar workers.
I chose to keep pace, in a way for the same marathon they had chosen to run.
progress is all we have been in pursuit of - allowing us to work with the moon, and race against the morning sun.
taking the same lessons my parents taught me, and rewording them - 
to fit today’s times and society
I tattooed my grandfathers name on my ribs to remind me, that he’ll forever be riding beside of me.
I’m fueled by scriptures my grandmother recited in front of me
my moms asked me if my sacrifices have been worth it, I told her that they will be
my scars will one day read like braille, and I promise you they gone will feel me


when I first left home, my grandmother critiqued how far it was
but I reminded her, that my parents crossed borders and it was as much for them, as it was for us.
she said I’d be criticized, and I told her that I welcomed it.
I look at how far I’ve come, and the up hill battle i yet to run - and there’s not one day I’ve regretted it.
I had to lose so much to find myself - and finding both my peace and purpose though out all of this has been worth all of it.
they called me crazy, and fail to recognize that I’m just getting started..
if I was hungry then, you can say I’m now starving..

El Marathon

My Grandfather stood 6 foot 2, and I 5 foot 5 - and I think that was on purpose because he’d never let me trade my 5 feet 5 inches for his 6 feet now
I hold to fractured memories of him like the rose I carried at his funeral, its thorns cut my hands but I never noticed because I never laid it down
what I mean is, my grandmothers name is Rosa, rose being its translation
thorns being her weight that she’d forgotten how to carry because he’d always been the only one that learned how to hold her
and anyone who held her that day felt what she’d feel for almost 13 years after
I’d ask her, question after question about him and about her
over time manufacturing my own understanding that he became everything that he did for her
as much as he did for himself
but finding beauty in sharing a garden full of memories with somebody else.
that’s what was important
that lesson now becoming the roses that I’ve watered and tried sharing myself.
I tell my close friends “thank you” so often, but would rather be a broken record, than music they never got to listen to
see whether it’s spending money, time, or energy - it’ll always be well spent with you 
we’ve transcribed our own language - where there is an understanding, and no need to verbally telling you
we’ve learned from one another, built with one another, and grown with another.
see my grandma taught me to give people their roses while they are still here, so this is me handing you another.
not to collect, but to share them too.
I hope you give your people their roses, and I hope that you get all of yours too.

ROWKAY