Skip to main content


 Words, in their subtle form of thoughts and in their vocalized dense shape, hypnotize me as a magnet pulling needles…

I’ve had a particular obsessive relationship with the outspoken ever since I can remember, always expecting words to heal and redeem life from life itself. However, until recently, I had only written for myself: essays and some poetry. 

Fear had been my companion since very young, in the form of an everlasting quiet creepy voice that stopped me from trusting life in full. I had been creative enough to disguise my fear as courage and false strength, until the recent cracking of my heart exposed me naked to my worst critic: my frightened mind. Often love reawakens us, but overcoming its loss resurrects us.

I have found in writing poetry the anesthesia for my heart’s needed healing procedures. I have found a new voice with a tone of unapologetic truth. I am grateful.

Fear is My Religion

Have you ever been so silently scared that your body shut down,
your soul went mute and your hair fell off? 
I have.
And with my hair, went my strength. 
 I gave up.
Yes, my fear is a type of faith, the faith that everything will go wrong.

At what age did I lose myself?
When did I become my own spiritual terrorist?

What dark agreement did I make to dye my life with mortuary paint?
Which color was the monster under the bed? 
 I’ve slept on many beds since that unknown day,
but the monster never left.

Fear, my fuel of hell, has kept me alive.  And dead.

The application in my computer counts the words in this text. 
Could I, in that same way, count the units of fear composing my thoughts?
If I could, would I freak out?

Where did our fear start?  Where does it end?
Did it start with a whisper while we sleep?
An unintentional statement from a parent that drew a tattoo in our brains?  
Was it the dismissive word from a lover that wounded like a stake in the heart and the stake stayed? 
Then when we're not aware, the voices echoed, the tattoo settled the colorful scar. 
The wound infects.

Fear will lock you out of your own dreams…

Is there an antidote?  Genau, correct, we know, it is Love.
But not the kissy-touchy kind (which is fabulous on its own). 
I mean the Love for life itself!
The trust in trust.
The invisible candle that lights our path in the shadows of despair.
The source less force that resurrects when mom suddenly dies.
The warm dew that bathes your every breath.

But where is that Love? 
Where did it hide? 
Did we in frantic digging bury it underground to asphyxiate?
I think Love is scared as well.

What does Love feel when we manipulate and get away with it?
When we cheat on our mate?
What when we allow kids in the millions to starve and go about our day?
What does It see when we pollute our seas?
What when we slaughter an animal for a meal we can live without?
What when we actually enjoy killing for sport?
What does Love feel when we sell others out of greed, when we negate our potentials believing we will never measure up? 
When we succumb to numb?
What world is this where fear is godalized and its devotees grow like weeds while Love is pesticide fed and rolled into compost? 
Where did we get lost?

As we continue to give in, give up, Love grows comatose.  It sleeps.               

WE need to wake Love up.
It will take a big inhale of pain that feels like death until we can exhale again the life we are robbing ourselves from.
We have no choice.
Or we will stay on pause and the pause is rotting all.
Photography by Jude McConkey

Maru Garcia was born and raised in Mexico City. As a kid, she wanted to be invisible when she grew up or work for the circus as a contortionist so she could fit silently in little boxes. She has a degree in Nutrition and believes in veganism as a walking statement of love. She is a very imperfect yogi. Maru loves animals more than anything in the whole wide world, and is a strong advocate for the animals right to just be animals! There is often a doggie or a kitty or a palm tree hidden in her purse on the way to safety. She often gets in trouble for saying exactly what she thinks and feels, no editing, that is her trademark. Maru lives in Playa del Carmen with her 3 dogs, 2 birds and one cat. She does not know yet why she writes. You may contact her on facebook here

~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 


  1. I wish I could write half as well. This is really great work.

    1. Thank you Karl

    2. Profound content and writing. I understood.....

  2. Welcome to our community of poetesses Maru! I love your debut poem, as it addresses fear face on and explores it's effect on love, and on the world: an uncomfortable subject that many shy away from. Your voice here is very dynamic. I especially liked this line: "It will take a big inhale of pain that feels like death until we can exhale again the life we are robbing ourselves from." Beautiful! The death theme in the whole poem is so powerful and symbolic. Thank you for your offering, an I look forward to sharing more of your poetic expressions here.

    1. Thank you so much, it is an honor to have been given the opportunity to express myself and truly share what is inside me. I rarely do so in daily life... I am humbled and happy.

  3. Oh Maru.... what a gift you have. I am moved by this - tremendously.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I AM STILL HERE by Janavi Held


This was composed by a very gifted and beautiful soul: a regular contributor to our poetry project, and dear friend of mine, Janavi Held, whose life is gradually being taken from us by an incurable illness. She has been suffering from Complex Regional Pain Syndrome and Internal Adhesions for six painful years now, and neither her insurance nor the government healthcare will help her. She reaches out to us, her sisters, as a last plea. This is a poem she wrote yesterday on her birthday, in which she offers us the gift of her friendship. May it touch your generous hearts and inspire you to reach out to her in her plight.

Dear Friends,

The last time I was able to leave the house was by ambulance on my way to the hospital. After many long hours in the emergency room I was admitted and taken upstairs. After everyone left I sat on the hospital bed, knees to chest, bracing my body against the pain and trembling.

The light of this cold day was fading. I turned my eyes to the la…

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…

DEPRESSION by Veronica Carpenter

Here goes my vulnerability A heart on a sleeve The typical person who looks at me May not see the same me that I live with daily The mind in the air, swirling with possibility When the darkness rallies/gathers/swirls When I am left to solitude This paper-thin garb unzips Here comes depression          
No I don’t want to advertise So flash a smile Those who are close get to see Through the veil, it’s really not that thick Circumstances in life like to stab at the rib Stumble, fall behind the door Shut out the world Feelings well and weigh down Strength hidden deep in the core So deep that sometimes it’s forgotten Here comes the darkness My old friend Sweeping through my every move  Doubts, fears, un-named masked men Oozing like honey, sticking to everything
Patience is required to get on this ride There is a cycle but its pattern is unknown Slowly my gift will unwrap itself Stay on the path Coming back to that which never truly left me Just laid sleeping out of exhaustion from the fight Dormant in winter…