Que se yo?

Sé, de la piadosa caricia

Que dos soledades se dan al juntar un amanecer

Sé, de las múltiples semiosis del silencio

Luego de la pregunta del amor

Sé, de los besos guardados

En bocas sin memoria en calurosas noches de verano

Pero también sé, si que sé

De la envidia con la que miro

Las caricias que se dan dos cuerpos que se desconocen

Sí que sé,

Del silencio que como réproba respuesta

Se escribe en un rostro

Luego de la pregunta sobre el amor

Pero por sobretodo sé

Del odio con el que aún guardo

Los besos para las desmemoriadas bocas

Que no han sabido encontrarme

Lecciones de vida

Me enseñaron los cuerpos para resignarme a uno

Me enseñaron la caricia

Para condicionarla a mi comportamiento

Me enseñaron el beso

Para tirarlo pálido a cambio de unas monedas

Me enseñaron el amor

Sin decirme que podía volverse costumbre

Y me encerraron al final

En el cuerpo único al que vuelvo cada noche

En la angustia con la que espero

La caria que asiente o reprueba mis acciones

Y en las monedas que nunca alcanzan

Para desacostumbrarse del mismo amor.

How you should love me

Do not love me

As if you have all the time to do it

Or a thousand lovers were waiting for you outside.

Love me with the strength

With which gravity is pulling down your breast

With the white stripes of hair

That although the monthly L’Oreal keep on returning.

Love me with the stains

That time started to shape on your hands

And the deepness of your wrinkles

As if I were the last one of your lovers

Your passage to adulthood .

My Politician Friend

If I only could trust what you say!

And adamantly share your beliefs.

If I only could join that emotion of yours

When you talk about the big words like justice,
democracy or liberty.

But there is something on your eyes

Or is it in mine?

That does not allow me to rely on your words

Something on the tone of your voice

That sounds like a song out of tempo and grace

Being repeated over an over again.

Fallen Body

Between smokes

He saw the last breath of life on her eyes,

While thinking that everything was over.

Unaware he was of the accruing hate that was building

Among the mournings of her body

-Even before they knew about his action-

With every layer of flesh that the bullet went through.

Colombia

One day we are going to be called

The saddest memory of this country

Our time is going to be named

The darkest epoch on this country’s time

But for now, let’s pretend that we believe what is said

About sides, parties and ideologies.

Let’s fight until none of us

On either side stand.

So that those who will call us the darkest epoch

Can start from our shames and fallen bodies

As testaments of our stupidity

So that nobody, ever, even consider to die or kill for an idea.

Letter To my Shooter

You tried to kill me

But there was too much life and strength on me

That your bullets did not harm me

I am still alive

But the wind behind every shot

Took away that strength that had me alive

Could you please bring it back to me?

Or do again your job

But please this time do not fail.