love poem

I rest in the warmth
in the seductive wit
in the absolute pleasure

of you

the true one

true love
is persistent
it goes beyond other feelings
that regulate our lives
it remains
even after all the hurricanes that pride,
fear and resentment cause
true love
merges with who we are
and never goes away

Love after love by Derek Walcott

The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.

progress

Teach a kid how to respect
instead of how to obey

now

there's only now
if memories were meant to last forever in our heads
they simply would
we wouldn't need photographs, journals, videos
even happy moments should be forgotten
specially those that don't mean anything after
only the present is real
the rest is an illusion that makes us think there is something called time

forgetting

all memories are indelible
each has a map
with routs and shortcuts to get to them
but that sequence of signs
when effectively dismantled, that is
no annoying  MacGuffins lying all over
no related characters around
no real desire or will to do so
makes them (happily) inaccessible

for dummies

disillusionment
should come with a manual

oddity

there are moments in which the sum of all those things that make you who you are

doesn't add up

choice

bravery 

sometimes can be foolish

cowardice

is always destructive

happy days

are those in which you don't wonder about being happy
those in which
caught up in small great things
you loose yourself

investments

there are affections

that are simply not deserved

promise

I will not deform any memory

and turn it into an inflated version of itself

I will not impose the present on the past

or the past on the future

I will not exhaust my own patience

but I will neither wait for ever

I will, though,

wait some more

with the peace of those who hope

exclusive

there's a type of loneliness

that is only felt

in the specificity of your absence

resistance

when nothing can destroy a feeling

nothing can stop it's owner

abstinence

in the light of an impossibility

like the one that prevents my words from being said

they create a world of their own inside

and hope to have the chance

one day

to be heard

the appropriate

there is no such measurement

in the arena of what is felt

that would determine whether

loving

or

missing

is right or wrong

those I've loved

as time goes by

the ones that I least expected

have taught me the hardest of all lessons:

that, like all myths,

justice

inhabits in the realm

of fairies, dragons and unicorns

russian dolls

for this journey

i bring with me a tiny baby

a curious child

and a young woman

the four of us

walk or run when needed

rest if we pause

converse and plan

discuss our positions

the baby has no memory

the child dreams and plays

the young woman wishes

I listen to them all

I carry them inside

about giving

there is a shelve

full of things that should have a label saying

"do not give these away"

because if you do give those

you can never replace them

but that shelve doesn't have that label

invisible woman

I may or may not be there

but you won't see me

like you have not seen me before

you won't see me

you don't see me

i may or not

feel or want things

but with my magical powers

they won't be in your way

as they haven't been before

i will fade in the background of your memories

with all the great life lessons I was instrumental for

like the "sugar in the milk"

you won't see me

like you didn't see me before