なに • 你呢

Contaba la leyenda de una niña
que camina por ahí con un sentimiento
que no se resuelve en saber.
Destila del mundo colores sin nombre
y pinta emociones para las que no existe palabra.

Ella vive entonces sin saber
que la gracia que irradia es el resultado
no tan solo de la naturaleza divina
de su ancestral origen sino además
una amalgama forjada con el amor que emana
de sus talones en cada paso que da,
de sus palmas y piel en cada caricia
que compartió con Dios y dedicó a la vida…

Yo cierro los ojos para que me pueda ver,
abro las cortinas para que me añore.
Agito los arboles por donde anda para que recuerde,
azoté las paredes de su casa para que no me olvide.

Tormentas que no necesitan entender de leyendas
purifican todo espacio donde ella desee abanicar sus alas,
chubascos cósmicos invocados con chicote y sin rienda
por aquel protector mitómano sumergido en salina calma.

En descuido y en vigilia me deslizo
por el navegable estrecho de su ventanal.
Alboroto la pólvora del tocador
e invado el continente de su descanso
por la peninsula del olfato.
Vivo en sus manos ordenadas ansiosas de mi,
respiro por azar y súplica de sus dedos creativos,
y revivo del vapor marino que emerge omnipresente
de su litósfera conquistada por nuestro calor transatlántico.

Cada avanzada un temblor suboceánico.
Catástrofe de vecindario, milagro ecológico.

Cualquiera quedaría corto al acusarle de realeza,
pero cuando el lenguaje no ha concebido
palabra que otorgue el poder de tocar tal belleza,
podemos al menos anclar nuestro sentido
a un término familiar para no extraviarnos
cuando una mano sin pluma estirásemos
con afán de salvación y descubrimiento
en dirección a su misterio.

Jorge

Bajo árboles callejeros

I do remember having that brotherly feeling since the first time I saw Emma, she was acting, unsurprisingly. Every now and then I wonder what would you feel about me saying that on a previous story. A presentiment suggests you won't be offended about it, it's not as if I'm "bro zoning" you, is it? I don't know how to explain it. After sharing that dream I had the other day about being in a Hogwarts‑ish boat I was left thinking if it sounded as if I was a H.Potter fan. I guess I would have if I had been aware of the infinite time I had on my hands or if I hadn't had that sense of urgency about solving my world's problems.

   A world infused with that evident type of magic at the reach of human hands is an amazing dream, though awe can be a two way lane. Unlike relationships with celebrities which tend to be a one way street even if a multi-way flow up in the air. Probably not that different to a relationship with God in many parallels.
   There was something about your gestures, your hair and your voice beyond your Hermione interpretation that reminded me about how much I wanted to have a little sister when I was a child myself.

Now that you've grown you've inspired me with your activism, regardless of being your idea or your agency's like some people rush to say. Such an endeavor touches reality with your perceived magic, and that is oh so real on its consequences.

I've missed having you in my dreams more often; besides symbolically present on other dreams, I remember you visiting me once so far: we were chatting under a front garden tree on a street at a city that looked and felt like Guadalajara.
   Right now I am at a family party: cheese, food, beer and fine wine and the air filled with laughs spawning from simple comments like «¿con salsa o sin salsa?» taken to "alternate contexts".
   This date coincides with a relative's concurrent celebration.

Wished I had the chance to be today
   in such a dream situation with you,
   probably not able to withhold
   a hug I want given and taken,
   for more than simply tell you…

Happy

Birthday

Emma

Jorge

Creí haberte visto

With my hopes up about being all together soon
This morning I went to sleep thinking about birthdays.
and a vague idea of what you would like as a gift.
I know it's sort of pointless for now,

Well what can I say? I like birthdays.
Might as well be as good as any reason to pamper you
and get you all worked up and excited and smiley.

Even so, I haven't stalked you online,
already saw what I needed to know,
from the night sky and the whisper sun.

Am sure you'll believe me when presuming
to understand your fabricated persona
can be as real as your private self,
even if alternate and parallel.

This is a poem not of course,
guess I'm rambling just so you know
I didn't forget this day.

Am not declaring myself old fashioned,
must be a stubborn whim.

Wanting to know you that way,
from your own proximity warmth,
scented giggles and laughs…

…between stares and look aways
and the whispering skies
of your free waving hair

per la mia

Elle

Jorge