Love Story...


viernes, 2 de octubre de 2015

NO! al maltrato.

No vive el que no vive seguro.
Francisco de Quevedo y Villegas

martes, 29 de septiembre de 2015

In the wake of a hearing

My dearest void,  today was quite a hectic day, but I got through it.  Last night I watched the movie "First Knight" again!!!  I believe I'll watch it again tonight or maybe I will go back to my favorite classic, "Pride and Prejudice".  In each movie, the protagonists are two women ahead of their time, women of power:  Guinevere, Lady of Lionesse and Queen of Camelot and Elizabeth, a woman who would stand on her own in a time when women had to marry or else they would be shunned from society.  She would go against all odds and was determined to marry for love.  Strong powerful women, an example to follow in times like these, when I feel I am in the eye of the storm waiting for its ugly face to show and shake my world to its very core.  I have no shelter, I thought I had, but at the end of the day, it is me against whatever.  Or maybe pressure has taken the best of me and I can't seem to see a helping hand.  Nevertheless, it's lonely out here, facing the winds and standing still until it passes. That's my fate and I have to dry my tears and become the hero of my own story,  like Guinevere, like Elizabeth, women who had to fight for what they believed  in.  That's a lonely road, a very obscure, dark, fearful, dreadful, tough, demanding, tiresome, exasperating road, so frightful I have no more words, my dearest void, no more words for you tonight, I am glad as always for you, you are the blank page that holds me together in times of dispair, in times like this when I want life to go faster so that I can breathe.  But my dearest void, in spite of it all, tonight I helped my youngest daughter finish her physics homework and for that, I can regain my strength and stand tall against the wake of a hearing... Until next time my dearest void, always turn the page so that I can write again... L

lunes, 28 de septiembre de 2015


My dearest void, I hope you're once again an empty canvas so that I can start painting my thoughts.  As usual, I watched a romantic movie, like I do every now and then.  I need to get away from reality and let myself dream.  Like my father always said, without an illusion, there can't be life and even if I am happy and I see the light in the eyes of my loved ones, one needs space to fantasize.  I prefer period romantic dramas, because love somehow, felt much passionate in the past.  But the most important thing, of course, is the plot.  My favorites are those of unrequited love, impossible relationships.  I like to cry a little and be crushed and be at the edge of my bed until I feel relieved because I know eventually things are going to work out between the protagonists and even if it doesn't work and they have to part ways, I am content if I believe it was for the best, as sometimes happens in reality,  although I'm always hoping for a happy ending.

Last night I watched the movie "First Knight", another version of the never ending Camelot, our dream joy, the perfect place with the perfect King and the perfect castle.  In this version of the story (with Sean Connery as King Arthur,  Richard Gere as Lancelot and Julia Ormond as the ethereal beauty Guinevere) everything looked breath taking, the scenery, the sites, everything seemed just perfect!!! It took my breath away to watch the beauty of it all.  I wanted to jump into the other side of the screen like Alicia, in Wonderland, when she jumped to the other side of her mirror.  But then I thought, I don't want to be in Lady Guinevere's predicament.  But then again, sometimes we all are.  To choose between love and reason it's almost an impossible task.  She was pure at heart and wanted to decide what was best for her poeple, because she was the Lady of Lionesse, the "City of Lions" and she had to look after her people and put them before her wishes and desires.  Art sometimes resembles life, at least in some cases.

When you have to make a choice between duty and your heart's desire it might be hard or even unbearable to some.  So, my dearest void,  I stayed behind the screen in fear that I had to make yet another choice when I have made too many.  I am not finished writing about this story, as I am sure millions of people aren't, because this story combines everything that life is all about, fantasy, love, passion, treason, loyalty, war, peace and the utopia, a place or state of things where everything is perfect.  So, good night my dearest void, until next time, I'll be seeing you...

First Knight

Oh, my beloved Lancelot! when are thou coming back to rescue me, like once before, when thou saved me from my abductors and gave me to drink the falling waters from a stair of leaves thou lead with thy very hands. Save me again from the ambuscade I am facing while crossing the land that will take me to Camelot.  Make me disappear so I will not hath to cull betwixt thee and the King.
Thy Guinevere

viernes, 25 de septiembre de 2015

In the dark...

My dearest void, it's so nice to write to you!! Even in the darkest day, even if there is no answer, just the sound of you reading somewhere out there is enough console for me.  I literally spent the day in the dark.  The power light was off all throughout the block where my office is located.  The only light that shined there in the dark was you, my dearest void, inspiring me to write again about what happened.  I was tired when I woke up this morning but I was ready to work, I am behind because these last three weeks have been kind of hectic and I haven't been able to keep up at my own pace.  When I got there I was wondering, what's next!!   I have been to hell and back and the top of the icing was this darkness that made me feel broken and worned out.  I ended up leaving and closing because I was melting from the heat like the wicked witch from the West in The Wizard of Oz!!! On the bright side, I got to drink a cup of coffee peacefully. So in spite of it all, there's always something good that lightens up your day, I mean, I rarely am at ease when I drink coffee... So, until next time, my dearest void, when the lights are on...

jueves, 24 de septiembre de 2015


En una noche de luna llena, cuando sube la marea
las olas rompen en el vacío, de la desierta arena
mientras el aire acaricia las palmeras
a mi me nace el deseo de tenerte, cerca... muy cerca.
Morus Gómez

Luna escondida detrás de mi sombra,

luna bermeja ¡la más grande de mis lunas!

asoma tu rostro para esconder el mío

en el delirio de tu cercanía,

eres ese efecto visual que me aturde,

provocas la sed de mis pies en la orilla,

acreces mis pisadas y corro tras la ilusión

eclipsada de dos cuerpos vertidos de púrpura.

Recuerdo quién soy, de qué arena estoy hecha

en el rompeolas que me diluye y me erige

mientras espero la tinta roja de otra cornucopia.

sábado, 19 de septiembre de 2015

Carta a la rama de los sauces

Ando por los caminos sin más vestidura
para cubrirme que el velo arrebatado a la vergüenza;
sin otro cíngulo que el de la desesperación
para apretar mis sienes.  Rosario Castellanos

Me entregué a un hombre de viento,
hombre de paso ligero como los ríos
"y ante él me adorné de la misericordia
como del brazalete de más precio",
no usé máscaras para ocultarme,
grité a pleno pulmón que fui su amante,
como reina y señora me atavieé de lujuria,
tampoco escondí en la copa nocturna
los conjuros que canté a otros dioses,
fui traidora de los míos, mujer infiel
a su tierra, a sus dioses y a sí misma.
El también huyó al asomo de las aves negrísimas
y su adiós fue como una flauta lastimera
que me despedazaba "bajo el hachazo
de un adiós tremendo" y corrosivo.

Fui la huérfana de la caricia hábil
y sentí la necesidad urgente de invocarles,
mis dioses de plumaje negro y sagrado,
me aseo al lado de sus lámparas
-al menos es lo que dicen las versiones oficiales-
y no respondo al toque de la llamada.
Le conté a él mis historias y como Eneas
se fue en la retirada de los soldados rasos
porque cuando la desgracia entra
"se le respeta como si fuere una reina"
él se marcha a dilapidar las caricias que nos dimos,
a olvidar los placeres de las tazas de domingo,
"porque la desgracia es espectáculo que algunos no deben contemplar"
porque para hacerlo hay que ser valiente caballero.

Como tú, Dido, caminaré sola,
me columpiaré desde un acantilado
y me encontraré con las Furias.

"Ah, sería preferible morir.
Pero yo sé que para mí no hay muerte,
el dolor me hizo eterna"


 “No one can take the ultimate weight of decision-making off your shoulders. But the more you know about how things really are, the lighter the burden will be." IBM 

My dearest void, what an extraordinary thought and what a great universal truth! And that applies to every decision we all make in our lives, regardless of the subject.  We need to put aside any feelings of passion that might blind our ability of decision making and let the facts speak to us so we could be at ease knowing we made the most informed choice.  Life is full of choices and the only way to make one is either to take a leap of faith -because in certain circumstances we do have to take that step- or to be thorough in every aspect of the subject matter before us and have the means to try to make the right one even if it was the wrong one at the end. Is the safest way to have a clear conscience and to understand  we did our best.  Due diligence, responsibility, dignity, purity, willingness to do the right thing it's what will define us, not our choices, at the end of the day.  Not even about our loved ones, not even about our love.  Until next time dear void, I'll write to you more often these next days... I need you more than ever... L


"Algunas de las hazañas más grandes de la humanidad han sido obra de personas que no eran lo bastante listas para comprender que eran imposibles."
Doug Larson

Llevar una sortija en el cuello
con una marca de sol en mi anular
y volver a vestirme de novia.
Tener cinco años para viajar el mundo
y subir pirámides en sus brazos, otra vez,
ataviarme de índigo y de blusas blancas
para alimentar palomas en la plazoleta,
escuchar gritos de miedo en una góndola
y aprender frances desde la Torre Eiffel. 
Acostarme sobre una alfombra de hojas,
tomar una copa hasta la inconciencia,
mantenerme en el aire, viajar con él,
volver a esa Villa y perderme en sus ojos
mirando los clásicos hasta la aurora.
Bailar sobre una gama de luces intermitentes 
para desembriagarme en la casa iluminada.
Liberar mis entrañas y recibir otra prenda
que guarde mis tesoros cuando ya no esté.

Ferris wheel...

Life is like a Ferris wheel ride, you get suspended on its outer edge and you'll never know it's ups and downs, just enjoy the view while you can...Lourdes M. Collazo

¿Por qué el solo viajar a un no sé dónde 
me hace olvidar y recordar que hay esperanza? 
¿Será que ya el mundo no es mi hogar? 
¿Por qué me siento viva 
en el despegue o en el aterrizaje, 
aunque sea desde el mismo lugar de mi partida?  
¿Será que cualquier suelo me recuerda mi dolor, 
será que me quiero mantener suspendida para siempre, 
al lado del azul cielo, de las nubes que no cargan lágrimas, será? 
¿Será qué me deleito en el café amargo de un avión, 
en entremeces extraños al paladar 
y en el pasillo lleno de sirvientes con nada que dar? 
¿Por qué no en los rascacielos, 
en la noche iluminada, 
en la mano que me toma 
o en la estrella encendida que no deja de girar? 

viernes, 18 de septiembre de 2015


Tu voz duele a un adiós sin palabras
porque la vida es un tren sinfín, 
la parada es obligada en cada vía...

Yo solo fui el otoño de tus hojas,
el silencio amarillo de tu césped,
la foto que se ojea y se deshace,
el poema que se lee y olvida,
el río triste que en otro mar termina,
una mirada que nunca lloró azul,
una mejilla en busca de su lágrima,
un celaje que se cuenta de un paisaje,
el consuelo de una noche...
me entristece que fuera la nada
o que fuera tanto que huir es tu consigna.

¡Cómo sufro tu silencio!

Recado a mi apreciada Sylvia

Sylvia de mis dolores, 
de los pañuelos tejidos en el papel, 
de las mentiras que inventabas,
pendular es tu forma de expresarte,
pendular el minutero de tus historias,
tú, péndulo de cabello blanco y largo, 
en tu calendario no pasaban los años, 
no limitabas tus palabras a un frasco de pastillas,
mi mundo eras tú, por una hora, 
galena, curandera de almas, 
abogada de mí misma, yo, acusada, 
porque todo me lo refutabas y ganabas,
rendida, abandonaba la batalla en mí contra.
Ya no podré llamarte, esperar mi turno, 
prorrogar el tiempo y escribir un poema 

mientras tú atiendes a otros, que como yo, 
buscan salvación en el reloj de tu muñeca,
mujer de alas y plumaje inagotable, 
de calma exasperante, 
llévame contigo, 
necesito contarte sobre mi amiga,

la que murió, para que tú descanses en paz.