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Isabel Alvear

Fiction

Like a dead body anchored In the bottom of my belly Is where all the trauma of My Life Sits. It moves, bobbing silently Pulsating as my digestion Desperately attempts to Flush It Down. Shifting minutely Stifling my inability To lose the spare tire of Anxiety Around My belly. I can feel a new shifting The dead lump lifting up To my conscious surface I cough Outbursts Of anger And tears. The measure of vulnerability Coming up and out of me Is the cor

Disappointment. Comes from assumed behaviors and expectations of another. Comes from customs and values inferred upon others without the benefit of the same upbringing. Maybe, little boy, you were raised without a father or a mother. Did you have siblings? A sister? A brother? Other family living near? Maybe, you little man, were raised to fight to win. Protector. Defender. Maybe, you little warrior, were raised that caring, kindness, nurturing or generosity will come eventua

The air between two Things, places, beings The emptiness The fullness The space amidst it all Negative, positive Hopeful, hopeless Space, as in distance Makes the heart grow fonder Makes the heart cry harder Wind, carries such love Rustles peaceably through leaves Tears down shingles one by one In its wake—change Space heals, or does it Amplifies or isolates Good versus evil Air flitting in and around Grey area buffering between Things, places, beings Alter

Our Trinidadian babysitter conveniently lived just a few floors below us. A great-grandma, she was our guardian until she was out sick one day. It turned out she would be out sick forever.  On the elevator my parents had met an Argentinian lady, newly installed in what the adults dubbed a “luxurious unit” in the sprawl of our government housing. Awaiting full-time work, she cleaned apartments and made time for the last-minute likes of us. My brother and I hadn’t yet eaten bre

I guess I just have to do Something Hey, HEY To get noticed Up/down Spinning/around Hey now. Hey there Don’t be feeling Your feelings… Your quota is filled Hey now. Hey, see me yet? Gears gathering Fears furthering Dreams dithering No más para usted, bebé For two thousand, seventeen This year no hay más espacio No seeing and no feeling Not to rent, borrow or steal Buena suerte, mi gentes Jump away all day Up/Down/Around #Culture #spirituality #recovery #m