Morisa Berroa

BIO
Mo has filled countless journals since the age of seven. She would submit her poetry under her mother’s name for publication to national anthology advertisements she found in the newspapers. Today, she writes because sometimes the spoken word is not enough and a quiet page allows her a space to hear the world around her. As a special teacher of over 10 years, she shares her love of writing with her NYC public high school students.

Audio
   - Breath - After Nayyirah Waheed
   - From M to Y
   - I Am
   - Postured


Postured

There is resistance in my words
from my pursed lips
to my pressed tongue
postured soldiers
behind paired teeth
push past
spilling
vile and aggressive
they reach forward
assaulting
hanging
holding
until I eject them
into you.

----------------------------------------------- // ---------------------------------------------------------

I am

When I let them mold me
I forget how to speak
I forget my two feet
I feed, I heal
But I forget how to weep.

When I let them mold me
I inhabit their desires
I speak into his needs
I look -- like my mother.

When I let them mold me
I am not me.
I am hidden.
I am quiet.
I am silenced.

----------------------------------------------- // ---------------------------------------------------------

From M to Y

There is one long road from M to Y
              There is a one long road
                          From me to your love legacy

I am sorry
            My body
                      Miscarried

Now lives in never fertile, never
            Open to
                      Parenting with you

Quietly empty
          Resentful and
                       Sorrow-filled

Too abandoned to recognize your love
            Unavailable and
                        Viciously vulnerable

Waiting, but signed
         X as in end, gone, over, dead
                    Yearning we meet in Zion. 

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