From the window of my soul
From his unpublished poems. “Poems and an endless love letter”
On this occasion I want to make a brief review of two poems by the author. Lucy Angélica García (Angie Lu.) inspired by those emotional moments where a woman is plunged before the incomprehensible task of moving forward in a process in which many women today find themselves. Paradoxically, in the relationship of a couple is where a battle is fought once morest the anti-values of the other person, the product of a macho society. The woman of today, unlike those of the 80s and 90s, and with poorly channeled technology, releases her frustrations on the networks. However, it is in this dark panorama where so many women are exposed to being victims of femicide, subjected by the same social environment to copying the same model of the many who have lost their homes, their children, their good name, due to the lack of a culture where values, ethics and morals are replanted and rescued in favor of the well-being of the family as the most important nucleus of society.
In this context and in this dual world in which we live, some of us have the courage to get out of this gloomy sociocultural pattern and immerse ourselves in an oasis of meditation and inspiration as the only salvation that leads us to dream of better days. However, not all of us have the same luck, since we don’t always know how to channel frustration positively. It is important to emphasize the urgency of state intervention in the ethical and moral education of the family because this is such a fragile human structure due to anti-values, neglect and lack of support. This circumstance jeopardizes this fundamental foundation for future generations.
MY SORROW
And I found myself on a battlefield,
between screams and despair
between mad laughter and tears,
between negligence and mistreatment
between grievances and threats.
And the bewilderment round
in the face of all this ignominy,
and it was like being exposed to a sword.
How to understand beyond logic, so much insensitivity
putting up walls
and throwing into the void
the reason for a word
And suddenly it wasn’t there anymore
impossible to stay
indifferent to so much
human poverty.
then my soul
began to dilute
in a torrent river of tears
slipping through the cracks
of my pale cheeks.
and with the body inert,
prostrated in a silent prayer.
The curtain was frayed
that hid my designs
And why not say so…
my misfortune.
Already my body, my chest
and my heart
They were like a box
a box full of rocks
of dead leaves
and despair.
where nothing germinated anymore.
and time passed
without giving up,
Because I learned
not to hear
and don’t let anything touch me.
because it was easier for me
feel
misunderstood
censored and hurt.
what to fight dying
in this bloody battle.
MARCH DREAM
It was a dark room
where they slept soundly,
forgotten things.
the tall window,
invited me,
to look up
donde observe
the stillness of the forest,
scattered little flowers,
tall and leafless trees
faded by autumn,
that they sought,
take hold of the branches,
like those lovers,
They don’t want to be separated.
the gray sky,
with bluish hues,
seemed taller
were these images,
the ones i saw
in that March dream
And that strange feeling
of being a prisoner
and weak,
with broken hope,
sad and invalid,
in that wheelchair
that held my body
accomplice, of my grief,
of my soundless scream,
for my lost freedom
in that forgotten room
My memory,
Keep giving me more memories.
And now,
those arms,
covered in moss green
that taking me with compassion,
They lifted me up through space.
While I,
with my look,
towards the clear sky,
and clear,
breathing freedom,
I asked him almost imploring,
take me to a far country
where I might rebuild,
my broken heart.
But …
even in that March dream,
I had no right to cross
the frontiers of space
and with a broken heart,
in a thousand pieces,
those arms
they returned me to the shadows,
from that forgotten room,
where it lies,
all my past
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