Rest in power.

Tonight the insomnia set on fire all my room,
my bed was a hard rock
and I learnt that my eyes
are just two massive bullets
that once upon a time
somebody shot on me
so I could feel all over and over again
all the pain of the world
trespassing my skull.

Tonight my jaws shivered
until my bones were dust,
there was a frozen wind
here, underneath my covers
and a huge ball of fear
crashed right into my chest
in an open war wound
that has been, since,
bleeding my soul to death.

Around 02.00 a.m. all my clocks stopped,
i went out of the house, walking towards the forest
looking there for some silence,
but my brain had been filled
with neverending shots,
and i felt my lungs drowning
in a foreign language,
just as if all my blood
was now pumping somewhere
miles away from this forest.

Tonight I woke up jumping.
01.45, late night.
I didn't know what happened.
I knew about it this morning.
50 killed. 53 injured.
Tomorrow i'll go to school.
There won't be any mourning.

Meanwhile, here, in Peru,
in the city where 12 evenings ago
another hate crime took away
our Zuleimy's life,
Fujimori supporters are celebrating
laughing
our tears.

Today the distance is blocking me from hugging
my beloved ones with the fire in my hands
of knowing, as we've always known,
but maybe today slighty more than ever,
that any of those caresses could be,
at any time,
the last and final one.

Today the distance hurts as a gunfire.
All the death bodies that i'll never meet feel just like family.

Loving should never mean risking your whole life daily.

Living away from fear
shouldn't be
a utopia.

 

"Vivir sin miedo no debería ser una utopía". No debería, triste verdad. Gracias por regalarnos tan bella poesía, que en el mejor de los sentidos, me ha partido el corazón. Un muy fuerte abrazo