To My Childhood Self

Mar 1, 2024 | 2024 Spring - Letters to Myself, Poetry

By Amelia Díaz Ettinger

Quérida Niña,

That mystifying anger that erupts
without warning, that leaves
broken shards of dolls’ severed heads,
of new guitars fragmented,
—is justified.

The words you need to heal
are locked
in hermetic vaults of fear.
Their fears.

You don’t know this yet,
those adults who take care
of your daily water and fancy
clothing, of all the things they think
you need—

all of them
tremble with guilt
from a lurid act
—your abduction.

Yes, niña, you were stolen
from your mother’s humble
nest. She didn’t give you away.
Something you’ll learn

in time.

For now, hold hands
with your anger, but don’t
walk under her shade.
Feed your anger with compassion,
after all, your anger

will keep you safe.

Amelia Díaz Ettinger is a BIPOC writer and poet. She met her Mexican mother at age 30 after she was abducted from Mexico to Puerto Rico. 

Related Articles

Dear You: lose

By Nicole Miyashiro Lose people/ who were never there, lose/ the lies, illusions, truth-fearing/ friends?/ lose the one you don’t need/ to be anymore/ lose/ the voice distorting/ what to believe, believe/ your loss/ the you, lost in who others/ want you/ to be, be...

read more
Follow us on Social Media