Quiero ver la belleza en lo que no es bello,
transitar mi país y sentirlo mío y no tan solo un lugar que tocan las plantas de mis pies.
Quiero verte a los ojos
A los ojos
Cuando te diga que te amo.
¿Por qué siento que nunca lo haré? Que nunca te veré y en vez tomaré a un imbécil… Sin satisfacción, sin provecho, nadando en lo banal.
Coni era un conejo
feliz con su tambor.
Tocaba su sombrero
y olía una flor.
De pronto vino el agua
del cielo y se oyó
cómo el trueno canta:
con estruendo…. ¡él temió!
Con miedo y de prisa,
Coni se cubrió.
Del comienzo de la brisa,
muy rápido corrió.
A su encuentro vino Ardi,
la ardilla amistosa:
– Corriendo yo te vi –
– No te preocupes, Coni,
A mi tienda has de venir.
Yo te invito a ti,
un tiempo a reír.
La lluvia pasará,
el sol pronto vendrá
un tiempo adentro mal no hará.
Coni dijo – Sí,
Ardi amiga mía,
agradezco a ti.
¡Que solo estaría,
si tu no me hubieras encontrado
en esta tarde fría!
a la tienda de la ardilla.
Juntos ellos cantaron
de camino a la villa.
Llegando a la tienda,
Coni su sombrero vio.
Destrozada fue la prenda
por la lluvia que cayó.
Al lado del conejo,
se encontraba su tambor,
mojado y ya viejo
sin sonido u honor.
La tristeza llegó a Coni.
La tristeza lo invadió.
– Tristeza para mí,
por la lluvia que cayó.
un sombrero le ofreció
con una flor muy viva
que pronto él olió.
Pero Coni en el muro
un cartel observó
de un tambor reluciente
¡solamente por un veinte!
no podría decidir.
¡Oh que complicado,
le sería elegir!
De pronto salió Terri,
la tortuga inteligente,
– Tu problema yo oí,
por eso salí a verte.
Disculpa mi intrusión,
no quiero molestarte.
Pero una prevención
El sombrero servirá
para fichas, para sombra,
para todo servirá.
El tambor ya viejo está
mas no lo veas con desprecio,
no es tu único talento
ni tu único instrumento.
No te dejes llevar
por las cosas que tu ves,
por dejarte aconsejar
sin ser tú mismo juez,
todo puede salir mal
sin obras como tal.
– Tienes razón,
me ayudas un montón,
y me haces aun más fuerte.
Coni el conejo
una lección aprendió
a tomar consejo
y pensar lo que leyó.
Coni es un conejo,
feliz con su canción,
llevando un sombrero
y cantando de corazón.
Sus ojos brillaban como dos estrellas en un mar de tez morena.
Su sonrisa resplandecía, automáticamente mandando mariposas a mi estómago.
Sus rodillas se doblaban, sus manos se alzaban.
Él era el primero, antes de todos y declarado padre de muchos.
¡Ay! ¡Perdido está el hombre con luz de día! Su alma ha sido derrotada en la noche.
Jamás serán vistos esos ojos que yo vi.
Jamás sentirá un alma desconsolada sus brazos de amor como yo lo hice.
Jamás caerán lágrimas saladas en sus hombros como la lluvia tormentosa que fueron las mías.
Jamás sonará su voz tan dulcemente a oídos ni se sentirá el calor de sus manos.
¡Perdido! Perdido, ¿dónde he de encontrarte? Un pecado me habéis revelado. ¿Arrepentiráis tu alma o darás muerte a tu vida?
Cambiarán los ojos pero no morirán.
Cambiará su consuelo pero no morirá.
Cambiará el dueño de las lágrimas pero los hombros no morirán.
Cambiará la dulzura de su voz y el calor de sus manos pero no morirán.
Dicho está y hecho será: cambiará pero no morirá. Alterado por el pecado mas perfeccionado por el perdón.
Alma mía, sostén el cambio y ve tu futuro. Previene ahora y no lamentarás mañana.
Quiero amarte con mi cuerpo, mi alma, mi corazón. Quiero unirme a ti mientras me besas y me despeinas el cabello que por mucho tiempo se mantuvo perfectamente peinado.
Quiero que me tomes de la cintura y que tus labios toquen suavemente mi cuello.
Quiero amarte como nunca he amado a un hombre antes, porque tu fuerza y tu ser me llaman más que cualquier otro.
Quiero besarte y abrazarte, que me tengas en tus brazos una noche entera como lo hacen los personajes de las novelas románticas y cursis.
Tenerte a mi lado y no soltarte hasta que sea totalmente y absolutamente necesario. Porque en este momento mi corazón ha creado una balada por ti declamando en una y otra vez:
The Duke in a position found himself
Of great horror and a terrible demise.
Which we will with now analize.
Hear the story of the Duke of Delft.
He was a man of riches rich,
And of the honor of a king
Who in the warmth of a new spring
Found his luck to in a moment switch.
The day was neither bright or dim;
The lady pictured at the scene
Had not the appearance of a queen,
(More like a harlot might I say.)
But with love blind to him it seemed
She was the light that made day bright,
And with pearlescence of the skin
He found her fit to his heart win.
He searched for her by sun and night,
Hoping at last her name to find.
And yes, he did and sent a rose
with a letter to propose
(What a fool to have done this!)
Not in his mind was her decline.
When the letter had been read;
The lady to his castle went
Meaning for his love to dent
(But upon seeing the great halls)
She decided t’was better to wed
A man whose heart was pure and noble.
The Duke declared, “delight to me
God has brought today through thee.”
And soon married got the couple
(Oh, poor dear, he had not seen his end so near!)
The Duke now steps to his death meet
Oh might you, my reader, be so sweet
As to stop the reading here
And save the fool whose fall they’ll cheer.
Or keep on reading if you dare,
And this moment with me share.
Years he passed of lonely marriage
While his wife the money cherished,
And the love soon took to perish.
It was a night upon his carriage,
That she met her awful partners
With whom she settled the done deed
That to the Duke much dread would leave.
And they together became planners
Of the paralyzing murder
That took place in the king’s castle
To steal the fortunes of the vassal
Who had promised love much stronger
(And pounds in gold and jewels bright!)
Than the one the Duke had given.
The king’s spy soon found out
Where the crime had come to sprout.
“I know where the crime has risen!”
Claimed the wife as the men entered
And they listened quite attentive
“My husband is quite retentive
And to the hate his soul surrendered,
For the vassal at your feet
Owed my husband a thousand pounds
That he had used to buy his grounds,
And meant from it the Duke cheat.”
Her excuses were ignored
As the soldieres grabbed her husband
In a way he was unaccustumed.
The wife had triumphed.
This was the story of the Duke
Who at this moment feels betrayed
As through his neck the blade slices through.
Oh look, the time has come,
When I wonder through the castle
Where the great crime was committed
And go hunt her in her sleep –
Make her weaken in the knees.
“Hello, wife, are you well tonight?
Have you found peace in my demise?”
I bet she has and laugh greatly
As I stoke her hair so gently.
I repeat the story of my life,
The great story of the Duke,
The fallen Duke of Delft!
Me gusta tu sonrisa,Aunque no la vea.
Me gusta cuando brisa
Gotas en tus lentes crea.
Me gusta cómo hablas.
Cuando pequeña llamas,
A tu pequeña amiga.
Y tu palabra abriga
En la tristeza fría
Hasta hacer que sonría.
Me gusta que opines
Aún cuando no quiero.
Me gusta cómo vives,
Con pasión ligero.
Te quiero como eres:
Con inusual ingenio,
Certeza en lo que crees
De un propio criterio,
Y por esa dulzura
En tu carácter segura.
Por estas y otras mil,
Disfruto tu amistad
Con cariño hacia ti.
My heart is beating at the rhythm of a thousand drums.
Poom poom poom poom
No space in between to take a breath. No space to think.
It crashes over me like a tsunami of death.
Breath gets faster. Everything fades. I see the letters. I hang on to the s and then to the t and I can’t breath.
I blink. Done. It’s over.
Leave it in His hands.
How? When? Now?
Pray. Can’t say the words.
Read. Too dark to see.
Listen. Too quiet. I like quiet.
Don’t make excuses! Stop… making excuses.
Sex? Yes… sex. Sex is a pillow. Comfort.
SHUT THE FUCK UP. Sex.
It’s over. Breath. Blink. Slow your heart beat.
Can’t. It didn’t help.
You’re tired. Sleep.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
I remember when thinking about the future was more than just a childish dream. It was a wonderful time filled with laughter and joy and beautiful afternoons at the park. I can picture one particularly fun afternoon right now. Emily and I were reading on a wooden bench over-looking the lake in Central Park, and the summer breeze made the weather perfect – not too cold, not too hot. Even ice cream could not have made that moment better. In my own head, I saw Sherlock Holmes carefully observing one of his many clients before deciding whether he would take the case or not. Emily, I was sure, saw Harry Potter about to be sorted into Gryffindor and start his adventure. Both of us were in our own worlds, but at the same time we were together.
At the time, we were ten. A lot happened to us in the years between. My mother died and her parents got divorced. Through it all, we were together. There was a connection between us deeper and stronger than the troubles of life. Emily and I were best friends and nothing could ever change that. Not even death, I guess.
When I was younger, Dad used to say that we were made from star dust. “Every person,” he said. “Was made from a different star, but it sometimes happens that two people come from the same. They are bound to meet and never leave each other’s side.” I like to think that Emily and I were made from the same star.
Dad never told me whether he and mom were made from the same star, but I bet they were. When she died, he held me and told me she had been his missing half. He cried a lot, and I cried with him. There were many times when I though his sadness would take over him, and I hope he learned from that… I hope he became stronger. The truth is, he was always a good father, even during the hard times. And there were plenty of good times, too. I wouldn’t be able to even imagine my life without his burnt pancakes and silly cooking songs before school.
Every time I think of him, I think about me too. There are so many similarities between us. Sometimes I think I am simply a younger clone of him, though I don’t think that’s possible. He made me want to be a lawyer through his respect for law. Being a police man, he was always speaking about doing the right thing for people. I guess I always thought doing the right thing also involved being in court.
It’s weird to think there won’t be any more afternoons at the park or burnt pancakes or… dreams. Always liked dreams and what they implied: an expectation of the future. You can’t dream about the future if there isn’t going to be any, and by the looks of it, there won’t be. I have reluctantly accepted it. Things like this just happen for no reason. I hope others have accepted it, too.
Emily is at the door of my little hospital room, and I pretend I was watching television instead of enjoying memories. She looks sad. Her blonde and beautiful hair frames her flawless complexion. I always envied how beautiful she was, and she never believed me when I told her so. Her eyes are now red, however. I don’t like that. She looks much better happy, with a book on her lap, unaware that half a dozen boys are staring at her.
We talk for a while about school, about books, about boys… About anything that would make us feel like this is normal, but we both know that it is not. This is not normal. This is not supposed to happen. I was meant to live up to a hundred and live in a house with a boy I would fall in love with and have kids and grow old and have tea parties and everything else I’ll never get to do. I’ll never get to do it. I breath to drive away the tears and look away while she complains about how Mr. Brown bored her out of her mind at math class. I smile. I miss Mr. Brown’s boring lessons.
Suddenly, my dad comes in, and he looks like he has been crying too. He asks Emily to go get me a glass of water. She leaves, and he sits down besides my bed.
“The doctors…” he starts crying. “Rachel. Oh, Rachel…” He cries for a bit and I cry too because I know what he is about to say. I have known it ever since I had that attack two days ago. “The doctors say that you are not strong enough. That – when you fall asleep tonight…”
He couldn’t finish his sentence. I wouldn’t have been able to if I were him. I hug him and we cry. I don’t close my eyes. I simply look at him. I want to remember him for as long as I can, even if that is just for a few more hours. He looks back at me and stops crying. He smiles.
“You are perfect.”
I laughed with tears on my eyes. “You are perfecter.”
He laughs too and holds my hand. I hear steps coming towards us. Emily comes in with a glass of water. It is cold, very cold. I always liked cold water even during the winter. I wipe the tears away from my eyes and see my dad looking away towards a window showing the New York skyline. Beautiful.
I suggest we watch movies. Disney. We watched The Beauty and the Beast and Inside Out and my personal favorite, The Lion King. By the second movie, my dad was already asleep in the chair besides me. Emily gave out half way through the third. I watched them all until the end. Then, I took out a little note I had made for them:
Dear Dad and Emily,
I love you both. I love you more than you could imagine. I always wanted to
live more, see more, but I can’t. So do it for me. Enjoy life and every single
moment of it. And when you can, remember me. Don’t be sad for too long.
I don’t want you to be sad. Please be happy for me.
I put the note in my lap and turn off the T.V. I tuck myself in and, in the dark, look at the two people I love the most in this world. A tear escapes me, but I know I’m ready. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Memories of the good times come to my mind and I fall asleep. I know, that was good-bye.
I cried. And I tried to scream but couldn’t. I can’t. I can’t scream, talk, make noise. “Be quiet”. And quiet haunts me. Silence has been my enemy too long. Life has gone on for too long. I scream. I scream inside because there no one will hear. “Be quiet”; “be quiet”. And I fall asleep with tears. The rivers turn to storms and I cant stop. I keep crying. And I don’t ask for help because deep down I know…
I deserve it.
Because every teardrop has a reason, and every single reason is my fault. I want to go; leave this body and this life and this place and this school and my present, my past, my future. Out! I want out. Stop, you hateful soul. But don’t… because your torture pleases me and makes me miserable at the same time.
I wish… I wish I could go back and erase you. I wish I could erase me. Wouldn’t that be perfect?
But I don’t believe in perfect anymore. All is lost. So I’ll change. I’ll try and I know I’ll fail. Haven’t I done so many times already?
Yes. And it is time.
It is mine. Not to triumph, but to daik and fail quite miserably I will, but I wilk try.