Ever-changing Trees

  Frozen to their core

icicles decorating branches

over the snowed-in sea.

Canals you can walk through, over their sleeted floors;

But once, months back and weeks forward,

their blue waves shone under light,

and these trees blossomed in pink,

sprouting fields welcoming spring,

green replacing everywhere 

you now see white.

Seems impossible, this radical change.

What is frozen stands still.

Will it be the same with me? With any and all those frozen minds?

Seems impossible, but here it is:

my body, this land, 

growing and expanding and loving.

We will see you with the green leaves,

and the blue seas 

and the shining skies;

past the cherry trees, then will come 

the most impossible, possible change. 

Wave of Memories

   The smells of grandpa's home

at the foot of those rocks that harbored

the soundtrack halfway through summer;

here in this island they visit me unexpectedly

those chords made of ocean

between fabrics of yesteryear and wood battered in salt.

  Shoes on the stairs,

at the entrance to a beach,

taking me on a journey to my childhood

with the smell of my skin full

of sunscreen mixed in sand,

with the tickling of fleas,

asking us to jump in the sea,

to explore rocks that open up universes,

for me to continue dreaming with

even today. 

Sunned with Salt

In this pool of sea and solitude 

I sit to listen to the waves sing,

today in a sunny bass,

emptying their emotions in foam,

as we would all wish to do-

become water in calm and tempest,

flowing but with rhythm and pause;

waterfalls of salt falling

like showers of relief in the middle of the Mediterranean,

heart beating of coarse rocks

masked in their surviving as placid islands 

immense in this sea of ruins. 

Travel within

 

Wandering 

walking without another purpose

but to experience each new place

as if you'd never left your own two feet;

each step marks a new day-

culture unfolds as a walkway 

in which to embark 

your soul away. 

Digging Up

¿Who will give us the shovels to excavate the tunnels 

where we unintentionally started to suffocate?

With the dust of the decisions not taken and choked phrases

My shovel was always there, like the light that beats in the unmarked horizon

like the hand of a person to be loved

throwing the soil out

the debris that makes me, that makes us, more human

the ruins that made us be

And although I always saw that shovel

I didn't know how to grab it, slipping into this mine void of diamonds

from where I start to resurge

with a helmet well-placed

ready if a new pit shall want to swallow me. 

More of Us

Your innocence

our love

open smiles

finding sound

to a new dance

grown into a family

made yours. 

A Wind called Aurora

   

 Colorful breezes

playing in front of the full moon

moving between stars

their emeralds in the sky

like clouds chasing

the calm of an imperceptible air,

better seen in the astonishment of silence;

stealthy like the smell of this nordic sea

improvising their dances

to the rhythm of the mountains,

caressing fjords with careful subtlety

they say goodbye in the same way they arrived, 

without announcement 

for their performance, modest

in their evanescent marvel. 

(Un)Repeated Instant

  

There's between your salt

the flavor of my peace

found year after year, waiting

in the current that surges between two islands

decorating my sunsets

and flowing in the deepest foam of my memory;

The smells of mired boats

in the seaweed of an empty sea 

in which there's nothing to do, but to keep walking

slowly watching how it fills.

There is the clock of my life,

each year stopping time

to retrieve its minutes

between those towns that begin where they end

and don't know how to exist

without the murmur of seashells

turning into sand. 

Walking Up

 

Between each step

pressing into the ground

the soil welcoming

the effort of going forth

into the wilderness of your thoughts

the meditation of these trees

grounded in a summer that never sleeps

reaching into sun-rays to survive

a winter that barely wakes 

Between my feet

is the voice of a land

growing past the sea

gently pushing upwards

past the breeze of time;

my body barely sensing it,

but thinking 

along with its rise. 

Healing Tides

 

I arrived feeling the sea on my skin, 

pale from a hidden winter

Humidity joining my still shaky fingers, 

sticking them together

The wind parting my hair, my soul

beginning to recover, little by little

dancing all that's broken

Broken are the parts of my soul that should be untouchable,

broken are the seashells on the beach

making-up the changing shores;

Open is my alertness, survival instinct

Open is nature, in the tides of this island-

Always ready to row,

to reach the existence

of a peaceful ocean. 

All is left to discover

Opportunities through each new street,

each stroll finishing at the sea, at your canals made of wind, of water and thirst

for wanting to grow.

Nerves in the empty burrows of this attic

waiting to see us dance, learn, live at that;

Parks at the intermission between seasons, peeking for new life

us, at the same time, looking to the sky

without knowing what weather to wait for.

New goals, same essence, all the emotion

growing with the change 

of a beginning without end. 

 

Light in Mouth

Caresses of a foot in flight

without a gravitational pull, a hand crying

can't reach a touch,

the tree birthing from a maternal embrace,

shadows of a dance

between human forests and tales accustomed

to maintaining the cover shut,

chaos covering the music of a scream

sitting in a chair, ready to escape

thrusted to the ground

hugging its floating talk 

in murmurs; body 

of water raging 

to touch

with a sight. 

2022

Magic

in the undefined color of her eyes

on the double heartbeat

yet to be named

joined strolls where only love can find its place

and the lights of tenderness

guiding the way. 

Made of Fire

  I dreamt with greens that ended in sea

and seas with names that danced;

but what I saw,

were hills as jungle as they were ocean,

voices soft to the rhythm of hips

with a language that sails in the waves of the summer,

rainbows that greet each evening,

between sleeping volcanoes,

waiting between drizzles their moment of awakening

with the patience of a surfer,

they reign over the islands without wanting to claim the lead.  

I dreamt with paradise and 

I lived the reality of a people, eager to be their own. 

Turtle

 

Gentle geometry over your skin,

peaceful power in each movement,

your eyes explaining the wisdom of the sea,

your voice swimming in the tameness of your soul,

teaching by being, breathing from a surface

filled only with the now

energetic sleepiness showing us,

all we had to do

was float. 

Only for Itself

 

Honeymoon island

wrapped in love, of Gods and ancestors

who all travelled to your shores

to be enamored by your rhythm, 

waves clashing, wind dancing, hula 

beating

our hearts as one, through each rugged corner,

each swallowed jungle,

each bit of land,

owned only

with the peace of its prayer. 

Rainbow

We find reds like copper with each turn of a surprising corner, on cliffs as dangerous as they are 

enchanting.   

Blacks of lava in centuries past, eruptions that can still be heard if you allow silence to reign.

White of your expansive beaches, soothed with the wind's glamour.

Scent of tropical perfumes, under the yellow carpets of flowers decorating all ears. 

The green tones of the planet, condensed in the oval miles of this island,

intertwined with each other, trapping in them the chords of a ukelele, in the density of its song.

Blue that is electric, and turquoise, and transparent

in each whole observing the sea that shares its world,

of colorful fish, reflecting the warm rainbow of each evening,

waving in the rain, mixing with the humid breeze of the sea,

more vast than ever,

and the orange explosion that will later paint our goodbyes. 

Hikes that show us

Walking in pause,
in rocks without a path 
and paths we must respect
for the continuation of your land.
Ours is the privilege to know
this known but hidden wilderness
this escape to your everyday life,
nature as one, not our average daily lie. 
Stepping in awe through each peculiar forest, wandering the tundra
fragile hikes on uneven ice,
melting before our eyes
singing the murmuring scream of change.
We travel on foot to discover
the body of the world. 

And Flying

 

We step up to your wings to be birds

to run like tireless huskies

over this summer snow. 

We use our humanity

to link our bodies to your ice, to your sky.

We achieve our greatest advances

to become less human

more full of air

closer to the panting of the earth

and the singing 

of the survival 

of your species. 

Leaving the Camper

 

Windows open passages 

to animals otherwise unseen,

miles count our travels

as companionship begins-

the beginning of the middle

of a journey with no end,

and the unmarked paths of

bear country inviting you 

to unwelcome yourself in,

but visit our selves to meet.