It was difficult to think about what to write, since I’m not a big fan of poetry. However, I do have a friend that not only lives it, but she also writes it. Although I’m not a critic, I do see wonderful creativity and feel touched when I read her poetry. And I wanted to share her talent with you all.
When I asked her if she could allow me to show her works, she told me that she would check her poems that were divided into 5 pen drives. I was already surprised, since I didn’t know she had that many pen drives with that many poems, but I’m not one to talkー I have 3 pen drives with 5 separate novels that I started to write but never finished.
I asked her why she liked poetry. She told me that she’s loved poetry since she was a child. She loved reading, and it just so happens that most of the literature in her home were poetry books. She emphasized how much she enjoyed reading poetic anthologies written by the likes of Julia de Burgos and Jose Angel Beusa, and the works of Pablo Neruda and Mario Benedetti, to name a few.
She started writing poetry back in 2007, when she was 12 years old. She says that she didn’t know the rules you had to follow to write a full poem, so she’d only write short verses. She wanted to highlight that she writes mostly elegies, and the majority deal with themes of regrets, loss and heartbreak, as well as realizations of how ephemeral we are in life. She says, “My poems are inspired by my life and how my perspective on different concepts such as love, life and death have changed throughout the years.”
Now, I share with you her two elegies. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have. Mara, you are so talented.
Elegía en la noche
1 de noviembre de 2022 [10:40pm, en PA]
La noche es larga, y, sin embargo, no lo suficiente
sí es para encontrarte en un sueño que te haga permanente.
Y yo, aun media dormida, no me atrevo a despertar,
porque puedo a tu espectro alejar.
Mi corazón pesa en la taciturnidad de mi cama vacía
y al extender mis brazos yace a mi lado tu toque fantasmal.
Tu memoria en vida.
Y yo en mi parálisis, ni poder hablar.
Me desvelo en la noche. Las horas las doy por muertas.
La tristeza se me escapa por los ojos.
Y tú ausencia inverosímil en todos lados.
Y yo en mi pesadilla de saber que aquí ya no estás.
La noche es larga, y sin embargo breve, y aun no es tiempo de despertar.
Yo seguiré soñando que jamás te fuiste a descansar.
Y tú me llevarás contigo a la tierra del sueño inmortal
para darte mi amor en un latido final
Se nos ha ido la vida
12 de diciembre de 2018 [11:23pm, en FL]
Un día despertamos y ya se nos ha ido la vida.
Entonces nos preguntamos si fue una vida buena o mala.
Pero al detenernos a meditar sobre cómo se nos fue,
nos damos cuenta de que no sabemos la razón o el por qué.
Simplemente despertamos un día y la vida se nos ha ido.
Se nos ha ido la vida en cada cana y arruga que nos ha envejecido;
cuando al mirarnos al espejo tratamos de tocar ese otro ser,
ese reflejo que dice ser tu y ese que no eres capaz de reconocer.
Y es que se nos ha ido la vida en un gesto conmovedor.
¡Y así es la vida! Se nos ha ido la vida en un parpadear sin entender
que la vida es el hoy y es el ayer.
¡Se nos ha ido la vida en busca de otra mejor!