I have been writing since a young age. Words and paper have been my friends in times of dire need. Poetry wasn’t my first genre, and when I began writing it, I wasn’t too sure it was for me. But it was through poems that I found a second voice that connected and filtered all the messages of my soul.
I share with you now two poems for midnight dreams. Disclaimerー both are initially in Spanish, so the translation can change some of its essence, but I did my best to preserve it.
Who am I?
I’m an artist,
I am poet,
I am sister,
I am daughter,
I am a granddaughter, niece, cousin;
I have thousands of titles.
I am a writer
Producer,
Designer,
Screenwriter,
I am countless of things.
And yet, I am few things.
I am nothing and everything at the same time
I’m clumsy, smiling,
a little lazy,
And often grumpy,
I have dreams,
I have goals.
Some already done
Others indisposed.
I am a memory
A demon for some, an angel for others.
I have little,
And I have a lot.
I have love,
and I have pain.
I am a lover
I am loved,
I have misfortunes
And one or another…I have many of those,
I am a feminist
I am a communist
Capitalist,
And even for independence.
I have dreams,
I have goals.
Some already done
Others indisposed.
I reinvent myself
I discover myself
I destroy myself
And I try again.
I have no hatred nor loves that last.
I have the present
which does not lie.
I am… and I am not
I believe myself many things
But who would I be if I didn’t believe them?
I am what they say
I am what they dream of
I am a goal
I am…
I’m an artist,
I am poet,
I am sister,
I am daughter,
I am a granddaughter, niece, cousin;
I have thousands of titles.
My sentence
The invisible man stalks me.
Fills me with anger
with the suddenness of his force.
His fist is at my door,
and lashes out,
Leaving me to the naked eye of all.
And in my state
half-naked,
with pain in my guts,
I reveal myself
Three times I call his attention,
but the alienated partygoers
because of their fervor, they pay no attention.
Still, I lash out
And I wake up
Still in my delicate state.
And suddenly the force comes to life
And my sister and my aunt show up
I appease
In front of my house they pass
men without a conscience
with loud voices, stale sound
And my father goes ahead of me to face them.
I support him,
But my presence upsets the manly agreement
among strange men,
known man.
Anger is unleashed.
I’m scared of what he will do
young vs old brute force
At that moment,
enter beautiful girls
some skinnier,
others fatter.
All with angel faces,
and wisdom
They,
His presence is a ceasefire.
And I sit with them
From their mouths full of wisdom
words that amaze me
glimpse me
and fill with hope
I tell them my regrets
I thank them for their existence
one smiles
And the white veil of my conscience is lifted