Yrene SantosPoema 22
Para mi inolvidable Mamá Titico Por dejarme su cara de alegría, a pesar del sufrimiento. En la ventana el viento sopla sopla y habla habla y canta Un dejo de tristeza se adhiere a mis rincones Sé que es ella sacudiendo las alas para emprender su vuelo lo supe desde que sonó el reloj y las cortinas se esparcieron sobre mi cabeza Pienso en el tiempo y me duele la vida y me duele la muerte pero dar gracias con amor bendice al ser humano al que se va y al que queda ¿por dónde andaría su memoria cuando estaba sola? La imagino sentada suspirando conversando con su pasado más remoto cuando tejía las trenzas a su madre y en las rodillas de su padre jugaba sin cesar ¡Cómo me duele el tiempo, Ángela! Cuentos confesiones y rezos buscando rostros nunca vistos y un “porque te quiero a tí” machacando mis sienes sintiéndome un ser que nadie conoce Ángela, como me duele el tiempo pero como me alegra esta manera de palparlo, de conocerlo. Poem 22 For my unforgettable Mamá Titico For leaving me her smiling face, despite her suffering. In the window the wind blows blows and speaks speaks and sings an aftertaste of sadness makes itself comfortable in my crannies I know it’s her shaking her wings to take flight I knew it as soon as the clock chimed and the curtains scattered above my head I think of time and life pains me death pains me but to give thanks with love blesses the people blesses those who leave those who stay what did she think of when she was alone? I imagine her seated sighing conversing with her most distant past when she’d braid her mother’s hair and played on her father’s knees Oh, time pains me, Angela! Stories, confessions, and prayers searching for unseen faces and a “porque te quiero a tí” crushing my temples feeling like someone unknown to everyone Angela, time hurts me but how joyous it is to touch it like this to know it this way. Poem 22 For my unforgettable Mamá Titico For leaving me her smiling face, despite her suffering. In the window the wind blows blows and speaks speaks and sings an aftertaste of sadness makes itself comfortable in my crannies I know it’s her shaking her wings to take flight I knew it as soon as the clock chimed and the curtains scattered above my head I think of time and life pains me death pains me but to give thanks with love blesses the people blesses those who leave those who stay what did she think of when she was alone? I imagine her seated sighing conversing with her most distant past when she’d braid her mother’s hair and played on her father’s knees Oh, time pains me, Angela! Stories, confessions, and prayers searching for unseen faces and a “porque te quiero a tí” crushing my temples feeling like someone unknown to everyone Angela, time hurts me but how joyous it is to touch it like this to know it this way. |