Becoming by Savannah Hernandez, Ammanda Selethia Moore, and CLS Sandoval

Becoming

Savannah Hernandez

Ammanda Selethia Moore

CLS Sandoval

 

Possibilities by CLS Sandoval

The Woman in the Mirror

       by Savannah Hernandez, Ammanda Selethia Moore, and CLS Sandoval 

       Reflection in Hand by Savannah Hernandez 3

Family Reunion by Ammanda Selethia Moore

       Remains of the Rain by CLS Sandoval 4

Sneakers by Savannah Hernandez

      Gold Studs in the Mud by CLS Sandoval 5

Decades After BHMS by CLS Sandoval

      View of Suburban Pyramids by CLS Sandoval 6

All the Men I Never Wanted

       by Ammanda Selethia Moore and CLS Sandoval

      Gnarled Branches by Savannah Hernandez 7

The Biopsy by CLS Sandoval 

       Gazing into Echeveria’s Eye by Savannah Hernandez 9

Panic on the Living Room Floor 

       by  Savannah Hernandez and Ammanda Selethia Moore

       Trees After Rainfall by Savannah Hernandez 10

Medically Neglected 

       by Savannah Hernandez and Ammanda Selethia Moore

       Life Above Hidden Decay by Savannah Hernandez 11

I Didn’t Mean to Be So Obvious by CLS Sandoval

       Tree Puddles by CLS Sandoval 12

Ode to My Body by CLS Sandoval

       Survivor by CLS Sandoval 12

No Rest for the Martyr Savannah Hernandez

        Awake at Dusk by Savannah Hernandez 14

Alone Under the Moon by Ammanda Selethia Moore

       Playground Perch by CLS Sandoval 15

Control by CLS Sandoval

       The Moon Also Rises by CLS Sandoval 16

Estranged Voice by Savannah Hernandez

     Wooden Tunnel by Savannah Hernandez 17

Celebrating Our Birthdays Together by Savannah Hernandez

       Laugh Lines by Savannah Hernandez 18

Still Becoming by Ammanda Selethia Moore

        Liberated Rose by CLS Sandoval 19

Photos edited by Savannah Hernandez

The Woman in the Mirror

Every time I see a photo

I cringe at the image of myself

I’m not that youthful twentysomething

With a flowing scarf and slender legs

I had so many plans for that girl

That beautiful, fit, young girl

I don’t recognize the person

That I grew up seeing

Almost concave, flat stomach

Thick hairline, full, wavy locks

Arms toned and muscular  

Porcelain complexion 

I never thought of what to do 

With this thicker, older version

Crows’ feet, grayed-purple bags

Beneath the puffy lids that pillow my dark eyes

Laugh lines fading, mouth corners hang heavy

Emotional bruising and scrapes evident in my reflection

My youth prematurely weathered by threats of loss and grief

I pound the mirror until something breaks

I avoid my reflection as I pass

To cushion the initial shock

And the tears that come to my eyes

I compare my new body, my used body

With all the bodies of my past

Every new scar a marring of the original

Every stretch mark is a reminder

Of what came before

Family Reunion

Their eyes look at me

They recognize my face

Even though I barely do

When I look at myself in the mirror

Returning here, to see family again,

Unsettles me

My eyes dart back and forth 

Judging their expressions 

Hyper vigilant in their presence

Have they noticed how my face has changed?

Would they shame me for the weight I’ve gained?

I suck in my stomach as far as I can

But my stomach will still protrude

I breathe in and out slowly

Willing myself to calm

I return their gaze and smile

  

Sneakers

I do not see Freedom or Play–

Grief seeps up from the Crevices of my Mind,

Like Rainwater streaming along Concrete Streets,

At the Sight of Abandoned Shoes–

Reminders of Unspoken Farewells

Perhaps they were Lost, Forgotten in a Childish Game

But my mind goes to Dark Memories–

Shaped by Crises and Left-Behind-Things

Made by those who Tried to Leave

With Unspoken Farewells

  

Decades After BHMS

Pyramid School, we called it

matching the new high school

built right next to it

a little over a decade after

Bernardo Heights Middle School 

opened

I walked those halls cradling my wounds, worries, and aspirations 

I performed three musicals, countless songs, 

and kissed most of the boys in my grade behind the choir room 

I started my period, saw OJ get acquitted, and passed notes in the hall

I threatened to walk off campus, chewed gum, and ran an 8 minute mile on that field

My friend was busted for hiding the word “Sex” on the yearbook cover design

My sister went to that high school years later

One day she forgot her lunch

I parked and walked into the office

The yard duty threatened me with a pink slip

Didn’t believe I was now a college student

Now that’s been years ago

I half expect to see my classmates and teachers

still on that campus

but the faces are all new

only the haunt of the place remains for me there

 

All the Men I Never Wanted

The first time, he just wanted to see me naked

And he opened the door 

To the bathroom for “Just a Peek”

When I yelled at him, he grabbed me

Pushed me down on the bed

Climbed on top of me and waited

Until I ceased to move beneath him

The second time, he just wanted to feel

His penis against my ass

Even though I was sleeping

He pulled up my skirt, and 

Pushed himself into me

Until I woke up

And he feigned shame until I apologized

The third time, he just wanted a kiss

And so he followed me onto the elevator

Threatened me, told me he was bigger

And pushed me against the wall

Pulling up my skirt

Until the doors opened

And I ran away

The fourth time, he just wanted to be friends

Or so he said, since I was dating his best friend

We watched Titanic in the theater

He went home, then came over later

Said he just wanted to talk

Then decided he wanted skin against skin

I think I said no, but my voice was raw by then

The fifth time, he just wanted to see how 

Many Long Islands I could chug

It was at least three

And he walked me home, like a gentleman

And then everything went cloudy

I don’t remember, but my body does

And I awoke next to one of his buddies

My door was left open

The sixth time, he just wanted to prove he could

He was so much older, someone I could rely on

He heard I was easy, always told me that he believed I wasn’t

Then fed me shots of vodka all night

I awoke, put together the evening before

Bolted from his apartment

Ended up at the police station

They talked me into a polygraph

I failed

He wasn’t a rapist, I was a liar 

The last time, he wanted sex

I don’t know if he realized I was blacked out

He took what he wanted, cuddled next to me

I cried in the morning, he apologized

I let it go and got sober, got therapy

Believed it was all my fault

Until I learned how to know it wasn’t

All these times 

All these different men

And still even if it were to happen again

I don’t know how I would act or not act

I’d like to think I’d fight back

Punch

Yell

But sometimes, I’m too shocked 

To move

The Biopsy

Husband and baby in the waiting room

Better that way, but I wanted to hear 

her gurgles and giggles 

for him to hold my hand

Met by a warm greeting before I undressed

I laid down in the flimsy paper gown

I closed my eyes 

the doctor inserted the transducer

like a large dildo 

projecting my intrauterine ultrasound 

she was searching for polyps

Your cervix is a bit off to the side 

she angled the transducer under one ovary 

to under the other

I clinched my teeth, held my breath,

I couldn’t stop it 

she dug around, pressing inside of me to find the polyp 

my eyes flooded, then overflowed

The hellish instrument paused

I can stop if you want  

I begged her to just finish 

I thought about my baby 

I would insist on being in the room

holding her hand, if she needed a biopsy like this  

the doctor held my uterus with a tenaculum, 

like forceps 

sliced a polyp to send to the lab 

Alone, I let myself sob for a moment, 

pulled on my jeans, went to my daughter

Panic on the Living Room Floor

Panic’s billowing wave crashes into me

I swim against its powerful riptides

My muscles stretching and straining

I struggle to keep my head above water

I breathe in shallow gasps

Fighting to bring more life into my body

I collapse on the shores of reality

Finding myself on the living room floor

I’m learning to breathe again

I inhale the lavender lotion on my skin

I run my hands along the shag carpet, so soft

I taste the salt of my tears

And I release the fear

 

Medically Neglected

My doctor doesn’t listen to me

My doctor doesn’t hear

The exhaustion and fear in my voice

I recount my medical history, my explanation 

She meets my concerns 

And stabbing pain in my lower abdomen

With huffs and rolled eyes

Same tests repeated, still undiagnosed

I hope she won’t say it’s in my head

But my doctor diagnoses me with anxiety

And tells me to lose some weight

I should probably switch to a new doctor

Someone who listens 

Someone who understands

I Didn’t Mean to Be So Obvious

Then there was a blank page before me 

to accept the boiling anxiety burning 

just below my thoughts

There were secrets on the outside of my head 

and passion surrounding my heart

Sentences fractured, fragmented, and faded away 

with shards of nonsensical words 

and comma splices

Under the ripples of the stream

my fingertips caressed each smooth pebble

and I saw the sun rise behind 

the thickening haze above the weeping willow canopy

I held just tight enough so that I wouldn’t forget 

I could lose all I had gained at any moment

I tried just a little too hard 

for anyone to believe that I was capable of relaxing

Like borrowing the steam from someone else’s shower

I let his kisses warm me from the inside out

then a fresh set of teardrops overtook me 

and slid down my cheeks

I fell to my knees in desperation

unsure whether to laugh at myself 

or slit my wrists

Ode to My Body

I should thank you

For your health

How well you support me

The fact that you aren’t falling apart

Your strength

How well you bounce back

Instead I try to under feed you

Then overfeed you

Expect you to shrink

Give you no understanding for expanding

Resent you for aging

As if you aren’t doing exactly what you were meant to do

No Rest for the Martyr

I’ve stayed Awake for Countless Days

Diffusing Loved Ones who tried to Self-Destruct

Swimming out into Raging Seas

To bring home Drowners to Safer Shores

I have Fought, and I have Warred–

But I don’t have Battle Scars to show at the End

Evidence of all that I have Suffered and Endured–

Washed away by Waves lapping at the Sands

Weary and Worn, I lay myself down–

I Breathe a Breath I didn’t know I held,

My Body never before felt so Heavy,

Giving way into a deep Slumber

Briars blanket me,

Fending off Reaching Hands

So I may not be Woken–

A Century or Two

Of Sleep will be

My Remedy

Alone Under the Moon

The silken moon shines bright tonight

And I’m alone underneath 

Here in the same park

Where my Mom scheduled playdates

And I played with my friends

Here where I kissed my first boyfriend on the swings

And we held hands

It’s so different in the moon’s glow

It’s so different now that I’m older and alone

The swings creak in the wind

The shadow of the jungle gym

Looks like a mottled monster

Crawling toward an unsuspecting city

How easy it was to make friends

A playdate scheduled every week

Mothers would chauffeur and chaperone

We’d eat ice cream in the hot sun

Now, it’s weeks without seeing anyone else

Outside of work, I’m alone

Weeks of solitude 

And the growing urge to scream

Pressing against my throat

Tonight the pressure sits there

Silent, waiting, building

And I look up to the moon

Up behind the palm trees

And let out a wail

Like the fizz of a balloon,

The wail wheezes out of me

The pressure relieved

As soon as I open my mouth  

Control

My therapist says it’s 

control that makes me anxious 

or rather the lack thereof 

When I want to shout out contradictions 

to what others perceive of me

When I want to introduce myself 

with far too much backstory

When I want to be the one 

who puts away the dishes 

and the groceries 

and the laundry

When I want to take 

everything out of the closet 

to reorganize

When I write myself 

as the hero 

of all the stories in my head 

and on paper

I want to control

She says 

some of my coping is healthy 

and some isn’t

So I made an inventory 

a list 

of all I can control 

and all I can’t

We’ll see how long 

until I try to 

conflate both columns   

Estranged Voice

I found my Voice–

In Smothered Screams and Desperate Pleas

Swimming against baseless Guilt and Shame

Lost in an Ocean that was not my Own

It Echoed the Rage and Misery

That Bled within Another’s barren Heart,

Of those who’ve Sunken Leagues Deep Beneath

Overlooked and Left alone in that Darkened Cave

It carved words of Comfort and Promises

Of Hopeful Futures to Revive their dying Dreams

To Pierce against Dreams of Dying, a Fight to Survive–

To be a Wick for their Candlelight

I found my Voice–

It returned Home to my Throat, 

But it Forgot how to Rest Peacefully

Within my Chest 

Celebrating Our Birthdays Together

I praise the Wrinkles that build Homes on our Faces–

Of Crows’ Feet that Scrape the Corners of our Eyes

And the Lines that Frame our imperfect Smiles like Paintings– 

Designed by our Cheeks rising in Loud and Gasping Laughter

We count and compare our Strands of Gray

That Look like Silver-Starlight against our Dark Hair

And Trace our Stretch Marks that Tattoo our Hips

Gazing at our Reflections without Comments of Rejection

We don our Aging Transformations like Medals of Honor,

Evidence that our Body is Alive and Ever Changing in Time

Celebrating Everyday as my Loved Ones come Closer to 30–

Because some didn’t believe they’d even make it to see 20,

So I praise the Wrinkles that Build Homes on our Faces

Still Becoming

I court the new woman I’ve become

I buy her flowers, write sweet notes,

I take her out for dinner in town

And strolls in the countryside

I’m learning her

Like a rider learns their horse

So that they may become one