sábado, 13 de junio de 2015

Poema I: Niña y Paloma



"Hay veces que me pegas
relámpago asesino,
que me afliges, me dominas
de afuera para adentro.

Insoportable el dolor,
en la columna el peso
de la pérdida de balance,
de la culpa en exceso.

Fuiste hombre, fuiste padre,
gran figura, el relevo
para esta niña desdichada
curaste heridas con deseos.

Pero no hay mayor desdicha,
supo entonces ésta niña,
que abrir la puerta al cielo,
pues ahí escapa la paloma

y su inesperado vuelo
muchas vueltas pues dará
lejos de este gran relámpago, 
que me aflige en mi edad.

Esperando su retorno,
ansiando ver sus alas,
retomas el camino,
la pasión, y a su vez, la calma.

Éste pájaro, ésta niña,
de milagro escaparon
del relámpago maldito
que pegaba de adentro para afuera."


domingo, 7 de junio de 2015



Originally written on May 21st, 2014

"I think I have finally understood why it does not matter if we take pictures of a moment in particular. A precious instant should not be of anybody's business, but of its protagonists. Who gives a shit? It needs to be about seizing that moment, absorbing every last molecule of the meeting, breathing every word of the conversation, or even the lack of them. This has led me into a state of almost-meditation, of pure vulnerability. I am going to ask my father to hold me as tight as it is humanly possible, in order to prevent the dematerialization of my whole body, as I fear it might happen soon. I don't say these words lightly. These are complex times; doubtful times. Times that, in fact, are a-changing (wink-wink).

Fears and acts of bravery, intertwined, make my soul's daily menu. To take a step forward, to take a step back, I do not stand still, no matter what. And the duality of the situation ends up pushing me towards unknown territories of the physical and metaphysical world. 

You have been waiting for this moment your entire life, and yet again, the dance and the pacing in the waiting room of your future is painfully enjoyable. 

Do I make any sense?
Am I making any sense at all?"