Moriviví To have Died Yet Lived by Kamilah Mercedes Valentín Díaz

A moriviví is an actual thing, not a made-up word. A moriviví is a plant which I became familiar with because it grows on mi islita del encanto. When touched it closes its leaves. Retracting into itself for protection. It also reacts in the same way at dusk. Like many Boricuas, growing up I would play with the moriviví, testing its instincts. I wonder if it ever got tired. I hope someone lets it rest.

Much like the moriviví, I found myself closing up, retracting, and feeling unsafe 24/7. I was always on edge, and I feared (among a lot of other things) that I would never open up again. It seemed impossible. It felt all-consuming. I didn’t start opening up by chance. I had my family which I love wholeheartedly, and I am extremely lucky that they love me back. I had access to therapy. I had art. I had physical health. I had Puerto Rico. I think it’s possible to die while you’re alive. That’s the only way I can describe what I went through. Morí. Viví. I died, yet I lived.

In this bilingual collection, Moriví: To have Died yet Lived, I want to share with my readers my shame, my hurt, my heart, and my hope. I want you to feel held and comforted. I want people to know that it’s okay if you have to close up, so long as you remember to try and open up again.

Try again.

That’s all I ask.

Feelings Can Also Lie to Us.