Claudia “cap” Alvarez-Plaud

Claudia “cap” is a Latina creative, truth seeker, educator, and Bronx, New York native. She began writing poems as a young child, inspired by her parents’ dreams becoming reality. She since has used poetry to express emotion, heal traumas, and inspire others to do the same. Currently, cap is guiding young writers through the publication process and teaching fixed-form poetry writing workshops. She continues to share her poetry and experiences through social media (Instagram: @cap.writes), open mic events, and public speaking events. Her chapbook, Stories: Poems I Wrote While Turning Pain Into Hope can be found on Amazon.

Diaspora Dreams

Somewhere along the line, we were taught that we don’t belong in the motherland.
“You're too American. Your sense of pride is imagined – you're not from here. You’re a traitor,
from a family of traitors. Going back now makes you part of the problem.”

This anaphora is my Diaspora Dream.

I dream of my life returned to the motherland
I dream of the yard, with patchy grass, a tree, chickens
I dream of the patio where I’ll write on quiet days, children will play on rainy days, family will sing Christmas songs with our guitars and panderetas
I dream of mornings, rising with the sun, drinking coffee I don't need
I dream of walks in the neighborhood, saying Buenas to the grandfathers I adopt
I dream of regular trips to the ocean, where I visit the sun, visit my mother, visit my younger self who was afraid of the water she didn't understand
I dream of my contribution to the land that raised me from a distance
I dream of the words, art, movement that will flow through me
I dream of my tongue dancing in the way intended, the way my mother and grandmother spoke since I was in their wombs
I dream of each motion this body will make to drums, clapping, chants
I dream of the joy in my heart when I learn something new
I dream of growing pains when deciding which parts of my history will impact me, which parts will guide me, which parts will become my future
I dream of the flavors and aromas of every street
I dream of each sunset, promising something new to my longing heart
I dream of the sound of dusk – less voices, just as much music, the rustle of wind in the trees, the gentle patter of flowers and berries falling to the ground
I dream of missing home, while finding home and myself
I dream of coquis and cicadas singing me to sleep
I dream of the day I’ll wake up and look back at this moment, when I had no idea what I was in
for – proud of myself for returning to the motherland, in pursuit of the Diaspora Dream
                - cap, 22


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