viernes, 13 de junio de 2008

Story

Once upon a time, I saw a man who looked lonely and empty of true love. I thought he was handsome and I felt that if we met we could love each other.

It was not love at first sight, it was not a shock of energy and seduction. It was just a quiet sense of belonging, the view of his heart across his eyes.

He was not always on my mind but I would pay attention every time I heard his name. I wanted to know about him.
He would not see me, he would not realize I was around. May be, I was not beautiful enough for him, then his heart was not worth the effort.

I had the idea that if I kept thinking about him, one day, he would talk to me.

But one day, he moved to another city, very far away. It was said that he went there to meet the woman he loved. I felt sad, not only because he was going to be out of reach, but because I was sure he was not in love and he was meeting the wrong person.
How could I be so sure? How could I expect him to come back sooner or later?

He never caused me sorrow or pain, he does not right now.

But I was surprised indeed when I keept hearing about him and I was amazed by my thoughts when he was in town for a while. I felt I had to tell him, he was wasting his time, and I felt disappointed because he could not see me yet. I did not talk to him, neither looked into his eyes.

It's been a long time and now after some months, he is back again.
Work has been the perfect excuse and it has given us the chance to meet and talk.
It seems he has noticed me, he has even asked me out and he has said it would be good to talk and get to know each other better.
After we talked on the phone I smiled, I laughed. I told myself: "Hey girl, you did it", "You were right from the very beginning":

I'm not going out, I'm not talking to him face to face. I'm writing these lines, instead.
I wonder what the trick is.
At this very moment I'm being stupid and I don't trust myself.
No doubt, I'm afraid of being hurt again.

Soledad Lorena / Susana
June 12th, 2008

Duda

Hay un tiempo
en que el corazón
ya no busca.

No sabe siquiera
si aún puede palpar
otros ojos con su latido.

Ya no cierra las puertas
porque sabe que las lápidas
no atraen visitantes.

Y allí en la huella,
en el gris recuerdo
de un jardín que no está,
un forastero juega ingenuo
con el fósil de mi nombre.

¿Alcanzará con su corazón maltrecho
para regresar de la larga siesta?
¿Por qué no llegaste
cuando aún
encendía los calderos?

Quizá te mire
desde la cortina densa
del llanto contenido
y deje que tus pasos
ignoren mi camino.

Soledad Lorena
12 de Junio de 2008

Día del Escritor

Hoy es el día del Escritor.
Ya lo he olvidado, sólo me lo recordó una amiga y entonces sentí una lejana nostalgia de algo que alguna vez fui.
Cuando uno convive con gentes que son ajenas a nuestra esencia, que condenan nuestro camino; aprendemos, o nos acostumbramos a no volvar, ni siquiera en el papel.
Sumisos, ignoramos la celda pero no ensayamos escape.
Fingimos que somos buenos y aceptamos las reglas.
Evitamos los colores, el brillo y los guiños de magia; así nos aseguramos que no haya más torturas, ni conflicto, ni mazmorra.
Hasta que un día cómo hoy, nos miramos al espejo y nos desconocemos, apoyamos el lápiz en el papel y las palabras torpes no encuentran la poesía, palpamos la piel y un espeso cuero curtido por el viento nos aleja de la alquimia.

¿Han vencido acaso?
¿Habrá un nuevo camino y un nuevo destino?
¿Me dejaré morir en este letargo?

O quizá me armaré de coraje, rescataré mis musas, liberaré la machi y me vestiré de azul para que de un solo tiro fusilen mi memoria.

Soledad Lorena
13 de Junio 2008

Escritores dormidos

Hay escritores que duermen
de tanto camuflarse
entre gentes que no saben
de pasiones y emociones.

Hay musas que perecen
de tanto sofocar el llanto,
camino a descreer
que el amor llega y bendice.

En un cosmos sin dimensión
la arena y los leones
la hoguera y el cadalzo
reunen en las gradas
romanos e inquisidores.

¿Dónde está el poema?
¿Dónde la poesía
de habitar latitudes
que sólo el corazón conoce?

Las manos han perdido el trazo
mis ojos desconocen el horizonte
y la magia ha desvestido mis pasos.
Si llegas a ver mi nombre
petrificado en el viento,
recuérdale que aún queda
un cuerpo vacío de latidos.

Soledad Lorena
12/13 de junio 2008