Puerto Rican

By: Gabriela Yareliz When I die, I want them to say they looked into my eyes and saw my fire. That I aged with my head held high by a backbone of resolve. And that with that same fire in my eyes, I confronted life without flinching. That I had the heart of Jesus, theContinue reading “Puerto Rican”

The Puerto Rican Dream

By: Gabriela Yareliz It was early morning, and the sun hadn’t infiltrated the land in shadows below the midtown skyscrapers. Forty-second street to forty-ninth street was barricaded for no entry. I was passing Lord & Taylor, when I decided I would go in to use the restroom (the things that happen when you juice inContinue reading “The Puerto Rican Dream”