Wednesday, April 3, 2019

So long ago


So Long Ago


Walking today, I step on that stick
and it breaks.

It reminds me of your tears
when that door was closed.

I hear the choke in your throat 
and the pain in your voice.

So long ago...

It's Spring time now.
The woods become green
and a wildflower carpet
ripples on the fields.

Yes, they sprouted from the mud
of the rotten past.

Look how beautiful they are!
It's the same with your smile!



Caminando hoy, piso un palito
y se quiebra.

Me recuerda tus lágrimas
cuando aquella puerta se cerró.
Escucho el ahogo en tu garganta
y el dolor en tu voz.

Hace tanto tiempo ya...

Es Primavera ahora.
El bosque se vuelve verde
y una alfombra de flores silvestres
ondula en el campo.
Sí, nacieron del barro
del pasado putrefacto.

¡Mira qué bellas son!
¡Es igual tu sonrisa!

Tuesday, April 2, 2019

Sunlight trip


Sunlight Trip

The Macachín flower


Golden and warm, 
the Sun came up today
even though the air's so cold,
its light & comfort
took me back to the childhood fields
of the countryside in my home country.

A soft silence rose up from the earth
soaked with the last rain,
coming up in tears of life and green,

Now like then, the great kiskadee
greets me flying over my head
and I say 'bienteveo'.

It's a time of soul search, 
finding answers to many questions.
The sunlight closes my pupils 
but opens my mind to the insights.
I see the roads taken
I see their textures, the mud and the rocks,
I see the sceneries,
remember walking here and there,
so many walks, so many roads,
and different places. 

The Sun now at the Zenith
shines bright. I see clearer, 
how much love I received,
most of the way.

Rain Lilies


There were thistles and roses with thorns, 
but there were wildflowers and pansies;
though my favorite were macachines 
and rain lilies.

My inner child is happy now,
I can still sing along the childhood songs
that made us dance around
holding hands, in sunny days.

I am happy now...

Monday, January 28, 2019

New time, no time



New time, no time

I follow the same trail in the park,
but somehow it's not the same anymore.




The path is even now.
The park keepers worked hard to even it out,
to patch the holes.

Two ducks in the pond remind me of Spring,
and of several Springs ago
when they had ducklings once.
But not today.




Today they bathe, they plunge their heads
to lift some water over their backs.
They move quickly.

Today there are waves on the surface of the water.
The wind blows fast and cold.
The water runs over the little dam,
clear, happy, singing.

My hands are my hands,
my feet, my feet,
but I am not the same.



Nature moves only on the surface of things,
but underneath, there is quietness,
there is stillness of breath.

Seasons change, some things die, others live,
still others evolve,
but underneath, there is no movement,
there is this stillness of being.

I grew up, I grew old,
yes, I have changed,
I'm not the same anymore, 
but underneath I've found a new time,
no time.

Friday, January 11, 2019

The three questions by Leo Tolstoy

The importance to live in the NOW

The three questions by Leo Tolstoy

It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the right
time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to
listen to, and whom to avoid; and, above all, if he always knew what
was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything
he might undertake.

And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed
throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one
who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and
who were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was
the most important thing to do.
And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his
questions differently. 

In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right
time for every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days,
months and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only
thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time.
Others declared that it was impossible to decide beforehand the
right time for every action; but that, not letting oneself be
absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to all that was
going on, and then do what was most needful. Others, again, said
that however attentive the King might be to what was going on, it
was impossible for one man to decide correctly the right time for
every action, but that he should have a Council of wise men, who
would help him to fix the proper time for everything.
But then again others said there were some things which could not
wait to be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to
decide whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide
that, one must know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only
magicians who know that; and, therefore, in order to know the right
time for every action, one must consult magicians.
Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said,
the people the King most needed were his Councillors; others, the
priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the
most necessary.
To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation:
some replied that the most important thing in the world was science.
Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was
religious worship.
All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them,
and gave the reward to none. But still wishing to find the right
answers to his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely
renowned for his wisdom.
The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted, and he received
none but common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before
reaching the hermit's cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving
his body-guard behind, went on alone.
When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front
of his hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging.
The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into
the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily.
The King went up to him and said: "I have come to you, wise hermit,
to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the
right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and
to whom should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest?
And, what affairs are the most important, and need my first attention?"
The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat
on his hand and recommenced digging.
"You are tired," said the King, "let me take the spade and work
awhile for you."
"Thanks!" said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he
sat down on the ground.
When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his
questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out
his hand for the spade, and said:
"Now rest awhile-and let me work a bit."
But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One
hour passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees,
and the King at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said:
"I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can
give me none, tell me so, and I will return home."
"Here comes some one running," said the hermit, "let us see who it is."
The King turned round, and saw a bearded man come running out of the
wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood
was flowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell
fainting on the ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit
unfastened the man's clothing. There was a large wound in his
stomach. The King washed it as best he could, and bandaged it with
his handkerchief and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood
would not stop flowing, and the King again and again removed the
bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and re-bandaged the wound.
When at last the blood ceased flowing, the man revived and asked for
something to drink. The King brought fresh water and gave it to
him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the
King, with the hermit's help, carried the wounded man into the hut
and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man closed his eyes
and was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk and with the
work he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, and also
fell asleep--so soundly that he slept all through the short summer
night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could
remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on
the bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes.
"Forgive me!" said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw
that the King was awake and was looking at him.
"I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for," said the King.
"You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who
swore to revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother
and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the
hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day
passed and you did not return. So I came out from my ambush to find
you, and I came upon your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and
wounded me. I escaped from them, but should have bled to death had
you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and you have saved
my life. Now, if I live, and if you wish it, I will serve you as your
most faithful slave, and will bid my sons do the same. Forgive me!"
The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily,
and to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him,
but said he would send his servants and his own physician to attend
him, and promised to restore his property.
Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the
porch and looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished
once more to beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit
was outside, on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been
dug the day before.
The King approached him, and said:
"For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man."
"You have already been answered!" said the hermit, still crouching
on his thin legs, and looking up at the King, who stood before him.
"How answered? What do you mean?" asked the King.
"Do you not see," replied the hermit. "If you had not pitied my
weakness yesterday, and had not dug those beds for me, but had gone
your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have
repented of not having stayed with me. So the most important time
was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important
man; and to do me good was your most important business. Afterwards
when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were
attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would
have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most
important man, and what you did for him was your most important
business. Remember then: there is only one time that is important--
Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when
we have any power. The most necessary man is he with whom you are,
for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with any one
else: and the most important affair is, to do him good, because for
that purpose alone was man sent into this life!"

Monday, February 12, 2018

¿cómo dices lo indecible?


¿cómo dices lo indecible?
te vuelves pájaro para cantar
la canción del alma;
mariposa para mostrar
en colores al vuelo,
el secreto de la crisálida;
flor para soltar
todos los perfumes del corazón;
viento para llevar
todos sus sonidos,
silbar su canción,
acunar su aroma,
dar vuelo al gozo preso. 
O dejas que el silencio hable...

How do you utter the unutterable?
you become a bird to sing
the soul song;
a butterfly to show
in colors, when you fly,
the secret of the chrysalis;
a flower to release
all your heart's perfumes;
the wind to carry
all its sounds,
to whistle its song,
to rock its fragrance,
to let the captive joy free.
Or you let the silence speak...


Tuesday, December 26, 2017

the darkest night, we celebrate

It's cold and dark outside
let's go inside.
The darkest night starts.
We think that the light bulb will give us the needed light,
but we're struck to realize that the darkness doesn't go away.

We go back home, to see mother, father,
sisters or brothers, 
real life friends and foes,
who, like mirrors in the morning, show us our real face.

Suddenly, we see ourselves, vulnerably naked.
Conflicts, reactions, deep conversations,
real joy,
frank confessions or hypocrisy,
even fights and unbearable internal anguish,
all come out too clear to deny on that mirror of the other. 

Alone at home, there is no difference,
the empty space, the surrounding silence,
the long solitude hours, 
are also mirrors that reflect our real face.


As the sap goes down to the roots,
we too travel deep down inside,
looking at the essence of our being:
who am I really?
why my mother insists in the bread being perfect?
why my brother keeps drinking so much?
why my sister's on the phone in that corner?
why dad is always giving me advice?
why she's always ignoring me?
why do I react like this? 
why don't I care more?
And all the whys you can ask.

Some wonder if the holidays are celebration
or torture.
We are expected to do things,
we have to decorate,
we have to buy presents,
we have to cook this and that,
we have to go there,
they have to come here.
One way or another, the darkest night
touches us all with those emotions we've been avoiding all year long.
Still some others close down to them...
too painful to feel them.

If we choose to pay attention,
and allow ourselves to crack open, 
so the light gets in,
we may distill a purer sap to give life next Spring.








Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Fin del día - End of the day




Fin del día


El estanque tranquilo 
hoy esconde desazón bajo el agua.
cardúmenes y familias de tortugas,
y los sueños ahogados hace tiempo,
se agitan en el fondo.

El otoño deshoja mis ilusiones gastadas
Y el viento se lleva mi última esperanza.
El cielo encapotado de gris
Me abriga con su gélido manto
En mi jardín las flores ya se han muerto
Y no hay trinos que me despierten de madrugada
una carta que no llega es también un mensaje
de silencio helado que me inverna el alma.

La cansina letanía del tic tac en el reloj de la casa
me desdibuja el tiempo y el espacio de la espera
otro hoy que será pronto ayer,
pero mañana ya no llega.
 Un río de tristeza se me escapa
y me inunda de agonía.
Los pájaros y las Monarca migran escapando al frío,
los topos se enrollan en su nido bajo tierra,
pero cuando se cubre de hielo el alma,
y al corazón se le destrozan las alas,
la sonrisa apagada
¿adónde va a parar el amor que no se entrega?



End of the day


The still pond today is hiding
an underwater turmoil.
Schools of fish,
families of turtles,
and the dreams that have drowned long ago,

are simmering inside.

Autumn strips the leaves of my withered illusions,
and the wind takes away my last hope.
The sky overcast with gray
covers me with its icy mantle.
In my garden the flowers are already dead
and no trills wake me up at dawn.

A letter not arrived is also a message
of frozen silence that brings winter to my soul.
The weary litany of the clock ticking in the house
blurs the time and space of my waiting,
another today that will be soon yesterday;
but tomorrow never arrives.

A river of sadness runs out and floods me with agony.
The birds and the Monarch migrate,
escaping from the cold,
the moles are rolled tight in their nests underground,
but when the soul is covered with ice,
and broken are the wings of the heart,
the smile faded...
where does the unexpressed love go?