Tempestad

Buitres rodean su presa
Esperan, desean
Avaricia putrefacta derraman.
Incertidumbre se huele
En el ambiente.
Mas la presa
Como montaña
Serena ante el ludibrio,
Contempla el rechiflido
De los coloridos grillos.

Cántaros de lluvia caen
Enlodando por cuanto pase.
Los arboles bailan sin cesar
El chubazco no deja
Ni siquiera mirar.

Que canten
Que bailen
Que se empapen
Y cieguen
Hasta el cansancio.

Cuando la tempestad
Esté por terminar
La montaña
Será la única
Sin ahogar
Y en su lugar.

ANGEL WITH A GUM

By Rosalva Ruiz

It was back in 1986 when my family was involved in a car accident. There was a bus full of people who helped us get out of our truck and laid us on the road. Although my vision was blurred by red stains, I saw her, my angel with a gum.

She may not know that she and it kept me mentally stable while watching my unconscious mom on my side covered in blood. On my other side, my sister trying to cover her pain with her arm on her eyes, biting her lower lip, laying there, as her legs were covered in blood as well. People surrounding us, whispering in disbelief as if we were some freak show from a roadside circus. And my red blurry eyesight that stung as I was watching it all.

She may not know that with this little piece of gum, she showed me the empathy from a stranger that I thought was long lost.

She may not know that thanks to this little piece of mint, I was able to breathe while my headache lessened and washed the iron taste in my mouth.

She may not know that it was thanks to her that I let the police officers take me and my sister into their car. It was thanks to that gum that I sat without a fuss while the doctor stitched my forehead.

And the most important of all, it was thanks to that gum that I did not despair when a doctor took me into his arms to see my shocked mom screaming, “Where are my daughters?!”
This invisible me in her eyes understood her state; yet I still cried while chewing that gum.

I have always wanted to say thank you; however, I don’t even know her name or where she is. The only thing I know is… The bow in her blouse made me think of angels wings.

Hopefully this time with this anecdote I can finally say,
“Thank you, my angel with a gum.”

* This is an anecdote I wrote for the “Mcallen Public Library Anecdote Day Contest.”

It will be held on July 5th, 2020 If anybody is interested on participating here is the link.

Hilos de Plata

Hilos de plata
Pilar de la casa
Se extraña tu magia
Que ilumina nuestra alma.

Veloz en tus palabras
Mas sereno
como una montaña.

Un libro perdido
lleno de historias
De misterio y justicia
Romance, comedia y aventura
Y todas entrelazadas
Con sentimientos en tus palabras.

Se extrañan tus consejos
Alimentados de experiencias
Modificadas
Por causas y efectos.

Tengo grabadas
Tus muecas y alientos
Tus pasos despacios
Mas firmes en cada momento.

Y aun en sueños
Mis hijos pequeños
Te siguen cantando
“Tito, tito capotito
Sube al cielo
Y pega un grito…”

Soap not Soap Opera

My soul
Has tasted dirty waters
Of the unconscious leaders.
There is a need of soap
to wash it away
Not this soap opera
That’s filling our minds.

A soap with the aroma of love
With the texture to exfoliate
The impurities of hate
Leaving our minds
With empathy and resilience.

Let there be peace
Let there be joy
Let others be alive
Let’s recognize
Lets mourn those lives.
And above all
Let’s keep
ourselves safe.

Lluvias parte del huracan

Llovieron colores
y se unificaron.
La obscuridad
que se extinguió
Se intensifico.
Llovieron sentimientos
Y entre ellos
La patria 
Espada de dos filos
Al orgullo acuchilló.
La prepotencia
simplemente se burlo.
La ira
se manifestó
Al sistema culpó
Y todo a su paso
Destrozó.
La acertividad
aunque sorprendida
Tuvo compasión
Mas solo observó.
Mientras la obscuridad cae
La luz se desplaza
Hacia los destellos.
Esperanza y desasosiego
Dan vuelco a este duelo.
El año en el que la tierra floreció
Y la humanidad se estremeció.

That is all

It’s not the colors
It’s what’s behind it.
It’s not the job
It’s the worker.
It’s not the rioters
It’s the sleepwalkers.
It’s not the dying
It’s the living.
It’s not “together we stand”
It’s the injustice at hand.
It’s not the nation
It’s the leader.
It’s not the eyes
It’s the soul.
It was not yet his time
That is all.

Nameless love

You are bound to be free
and that is how
I will let you be
This silence is my love.
This smile is my farewell.
I can not say
You are my first love
Yet you are the one
That hurt the most.
The moon is clear tonight
The waves are ready
To sail away.
The treasures are left
Forever to be lost
And the wind
Has set its course.
Pretty sure you will
Set foot in many ports
As for mine
Is for ever closed.
Goodbye
My nameless love.

Te adueñaste

Como si fuera ayer
Tu sudadera y libro
Marcaron tu silueta
En este corazón vació.

Que coincidencia
Aquel día en el que
ni siquiera te conocia
Fue como una melodía.

Mas en silencio
Como exquisitas flores
Y sonrisas coquetas
Te adueñaste de mi ser.

Tu sueter
bombón de mis recuerdos.

Tu libro
Explosión cósmica
en mi sentidos.

Y tu silueta
Conjunción de
Emociones perpetuas
En nuestro atardecer.

Si, como si fuera ayer 
me enamore de ti
Sin darme un aviso
Llegaste y explotaste
Mis sentidos.

Deformaste mi razón
con tu presencia.

Ni tiempo tuve
de poner fronteras.

Y aunque las construyera
En silencio
Como exquisitas flores
Y sonrisas coquetas
Te adueñaste de mi ser.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: