Diario 11/09/2017

Me pregunto si no estaré largamente esperándote. Tan pacientemente aguardándote que se me ha olvidado. Expectando en un espacio tan holgado que parece que todo ha seguido avanzando.

Siguen dando vueltas en círculo las estaciones en el año y siempre llega un punto intermedio, en el que se enfrenta el invierno al verano y yo vuelvo a encontrarme con mi reflejo acostumbrado, con mis juguetes tirados...

Como se tira el polvo sobre el suelo. Como me hace estornudar cuando barriendo lo levanto.

Gone II

(15/07/2019)

I hold your hand so tightly because I have such great fear of losing you in the crowd. For you to dissolve sparkly like a handful of dirt in the sea, not longer my hands able to grab you. For you dissipating speck by speck into this massively freckled universe, becoming another unnamed galaxy for me. So great fear of de-knowing you, watching you turn into a stranger, looking away from me. Looking away from me.

How I fear for your love to fade like words traced in sand with a stick, wave by wave. How I fear for the ocean claiming you. For your words to be perishable, to get stale like cookies after a year; for them to crumble into bready dust when I hold them for a kiss.

I may be not so pretty after a while. No longer the droplet of water that eases your thirst. You may no longer be drawn like the Moon to the Earth to me, as the space is expanding steadily.

And it all would be natural, I suppose. Natural as erosion, as disease. I hold your hand so tight, and yet, it keeps sliding out like I accidentally caught a fish.

A dream III

If the rose knew
how much she is loved,
would it change anything?

Does the rose need us
to say?

Would she, maybe, in fact, prefer
not a word to ever be said to her
for words just add weight
to the air?

May it be that words are poison
for whom cannot speak herself?

When I look at the rose, I feel how 

the forest grows so vast, inside myself.
If not for some strange magic
I think I would burst out in leaves.
If she knew 
how much she is loved,
would it change anything?

Only in dreams
she embraces me
and I wake up with pricked hands.

Deseo terrenal XXII

(2018)

Viéndome reflejada en el lago, es extraño saber que aunque me devuelva mi imagen, yo soy únicamente en este lado, y el suyo no es sino una profundidad oscura que no puedo conocer.
Su superficie se ve tan lisa, que se me idea indecoroso tratarla de romper. ¿Por qué querría perturbar tanta serenidad, que yo admiro?
Me pregunto si los peces me ven.

Mi rostro en tu rostro es el mismo, pero al revés. El cielo está bajo de mí, y tú eres quien se cierne encima. Sin embargo, solo yo me puedo caer. Solo yo me puedo atrever
a tocarte.
Y es verdad que me deseo dentro pero, ¿soy acaso bienvenida ahí?
Solo vine a contemplarte, porque soy fastidiosamente gentil.

A dream II

I love you like a painting

that I look at in silence.
There's nothing else I could possibly do.

I could never be in that prairie lying,
I could never bathe in that sun.

You hang on the wall,
to most of the days be passed by a quick glance.

To some of the days,
look at you in silence.
Wishing I could be there.