By Arisael Rivera

I was born into stories

Stories that have been told to me

Constantly

Molding and guiding

Sign posts and core memories

Failures and victories

Savior and Enemy

Shaping the malleable me

Yet from within, it seems

Another story beckons me

The blood in me,

Lo Taino en mi,

My ancestry

Calls to say,

"Busca, 

Search 

for Atabei"

Mother, 

Goddess of the deep, profound dream that was el universo,

cielo, sky, 

body, cuerpo

It was all there was and ever would be

So goes the story

Mother God plants two sons

Two sons to fight the empty

Two sons who begin to till and grow and scheme on the universe known as Dream

And one of the two, Yucaju, 

Makes 

Wonders

Atabei watches Him create the Earth and separate 

Water from Land and add Light to the Day and let it rest 

And animales roam the way and

His brother Guacar watches His Mother's praise

Watches the way 

She gleams and laughs and tears arise in pride for Her Son

Her Tree,

“But not for Me.”

Then Yucaju seeds the ultimate being

Locuo, between God and human, in peace 

What a Dream

They stand on the Motherland

But then Guacar in seemingly impotent rage

Borne from the same Mother

Filled with the same Power

Blood from the same Blood

Screams and proclaims

And ravages against the good His Brother would create

So much anger turned to Hate

He even changes his name

Winds begin to blow another way

JURACAN comes!

"NO!" yells Atabei

Yet He torches the land

And rains every way

And drowns the animals’ life

Like He opens a vein

And He powers the wind

And engages the waves

Destroying Locuo's home

Where humans would roam

Yucaju's in pain and He pleads for reprieve 

But Juracan can't abide Brother being “better than Me”

So He uses His power

And He hurts His own blood

A Flood!

He couldn’t see

Atabei weeps

“Why did you forget to dream?

To create

To be,”

She pleads.

Juracan retreats

To return and repeat

A cycle to find meaning

Blinded by the feeling

Searching for peace in the bleeding

Destroying instead of believing

Missing ever missing the power of dreaming

And I try to see clearly

Look back at my life

Find the root of believing

Do I look for peace in the bleeding?

Did I forget the power of dreaming?

Let me replay the scenes

Like I'm reversing a feeling

Unpack the story

Uncover the theme and

I find Mother there, 

beaming

Atabei lives in me

She holds me in her arms

And tells me the meaning

"JURACAN will come and ravage all you know,

You must grow

Grow,

Not above

But below"

Roots must run deep 

Rooted in what I can't know

In what I can't see

Only in what I believe

What’s inherent in me

Esperanza is the seed.

Only then will I remember,

Will I Create, will I Be

Only then will I never forget 

To Dream.