July 4, 2014

Llorona


 
 
Remember 2014
The year García Márquez died
Everyone was having babies
And the poplar tree in front of the window grew taller than ever
Winter was kind, summer kicked in the door too soon
While floods swept through muddying everything in between


Remember 2014
When you couldn’t stop crying for five months
And the thunder of escobillas was not enough to shut out the songs that fought in your head
When love asked you to be quiet
To just be
And you buttoned up your breath so tight that
When it was finally released, it came out as a wail


You finished something
That took a year of your life
And it was only the first of five, not even a final version of itself
A Delicate Balance visited again with its question
How do you know if it has happened? If you’ve really gone to that place?
You preferred not to
You decided against


Remember this
Remember this moment
Your red is granate, deeper than rojo
You click your heels for some nebulous home
How many sunrises in 2014?
How many kicks and screams spell ‘patience’?
How many ways to bend a Vitruvian heart?
On y va, missy
To storytellers who deny
And dancers who tell stories
To those that get your unthinkable music
¿que más quieres? ¿quieres más?
 
 
 
 
 

4 comments:

  1. I hate the word "remiss." The phrase "I have been remiss" is about as useless as "I am sorry," especially when toying with one's heart. But that has nothing to do with you, I am just projecting. Your last four writerlings have been much more airy than before. You seem to be wondering less and wandering more. That is a good thing, I think. There are times and ways when the questions themselves speak a much clearer truth than the answers. And other times, the questions are all we have. I am not a dancer. I'm far too heavy and awkward to dance with anything but words. And I haven't even done much of that lately.

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    Replies
    1. There is not enough life in me, around me, to be anything but airy. That's the embarrassing truth. Everything I write, including stuff that I was proud of once upon a time, feels pointlessly out of touch. Dancing grounded me for awhile, but the summer break is taking its toll. I repeat the steps mentally while listening to music, counting days until more air comes along in the form of a jet and sweeps me back into life.

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  2. Replies
    1. In limbo. About to be plucked from my coziness. Never to have the things I love in one place. Overwhelmed with love from family and friends. New blog post up, as someone local gave me fodder to write again. Will write soon.

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