Archive | Literature RSS feed for this section

El Viaje

18 Mar

Venadito Azul

Bertha Rodríguez Santos

(*) Para todos los caifanes en viaje eterno

Este es un viaje. ES TU VIAJE.

No traigas más de lo que tienes encima

Entra ahora, no temas

Aunque esto sea algo que nunca has conocido

No hay tiempo para el miedo.

Dudas pero no puedes dar marcha atrás

El dolor y la amargura

Sólo son un recordatorio de que eres

real y un sueño a la vez.

El verde esmeralda es la puerta

El rosa esmeralda es la llave.

¡Entra ya!

Ahí están el calor y sus fulgores

También ES la tristeza de la noche

¡Y el tiempo sin tiempo!

Para abrir el mundo oculto por

Los viejos atardeceres.

Gracias guardianes

¿Cómo han protegido todo esto por tanto tiempo?

¡Con permiso, esto me pertenece!

El tiempo no existe más que en la medida

De tu extinción.

No tengas miedo de ver

Mira bien,

Un día te irás de aquí cuando menos quieras irte.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

¿Quiénes somos xxxxxxxx de mi alma?

¿Qué hacemos aquí aparte de despegar

una y otra vez en vuelos intermitentes?

Iré hasta donde estés para quedarme un rato.

Atravesaré las quietas avenidas

en medio de gritos

De las niñas en las escuelas

Y la rutina de los agentes

Que revisan los boletos del tren,

Junto a perros anti-terror.

Los susurros se convierten en una oración ferviente.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh la vida es un viaje eterno.

Iré hasta donde estés para quedarme

Un rato y acariciar tu cara.

Somos un sueño

Una danza sin parar

Un acto escénico sin final

Una película absurda que se repite sin cesar.

La vida es una ceremonia

La vida es un viaje sin retorno.

Comenzarás desde cero

Sin amigos,

Sin casa y sin familia.

La vida es un viaje que tiene final

Solo para cada uno. Para mí y para tí

hasta el infinito.

¡Pero mientras estés aquí estalla y recoge de nuevo tus pedazos!

Advertisements

WIND

13 Sep

Bertha Rodríguez (*)

"What kind of news do you have for us Mr. Wind?". Photo: science.nationalgeographic.com

“What kind of news do you have for us Mr. Wind?”. Photo: science.nationalgeographic.com

Before you became wind, you were that old singing river that everybody thought would always be there. You were a starfish witnessing the big fish eating the little ones. You were flying bullets piercing the heart of Anybody’s City, tearing pain as if everything was over. You were a dog with no owner pretending She cared for you. Your sweet mangos, hanging -plentiful- like an endless field of marigolds.

And when you were an ugly duckling, an unpolished diamond, a bank account with 0 balance, a misplaced comma -imperfections that made you real-, it took you a long journey to discover yourself as a beautiful swan, a precious stone that made your Special One happy, a symbol that would be placed on the right side, and any man could swear, “you’re gorgeous.”

But you were a character of a comedy, accused of not being feminine enough for doing things like a boy. You were a child cracking the night at the border. (They don’t know these are ways of surviving).

 Photo: childcarecenter.us


Photo: childcarecenter.us


You were a shy breeze drifting through the palm leaves, not knowing what to do with your power. You were the messenger. You were the window to the temple of colors and you were also the ancient healer of the Earth. You were a fierce, icy gust of wind, but also a warm and hot wave of existence. You were the dancing waves of the ocean. You were a traveling cloud. You were the breath of life. You were ideas and changes themselves. You were lightening and storms. Your wind’s destiny is to be free and to carry the knowledge and wisdom for humanity.

Before being spirit and imagination, you were a dream. You were that brief void in her mind in the mornings, that she just knew it was entirely hers.

(*) This piece started as an exercise as part of a free verse poem lesson, assigned by my English teacher Miss Drown and inspired by Sandra Cisneros’ Cloud.

Photo: fotocommunity.com

Photo: fotocommunity.com