Ir al contenido principal

My heart is broken

The earthquake broke my heart. It was just on the right side, where my pride for my city lives.  The place I love, I lived, and I miss.

It is broken for being far away, for not being there to help. To move the dust, to cooperate in something.

My heart is broken because I want to hug my family and friends, organise something and be there.

My heart is broken for seeing the misery in the disaster and the pillage in the chaos.

My heart is broken because coming back won't be the same, some buildings won't be there, and the dust will be in the heart of everyone. The grief will be shared but not lived.

My heart is broken because of the injustice for the children in the school and the thousands of stories under the rubble.

My heart is, however, full of hope. The generosity is as immense as the size of the city.

The pride for the people helping, the donations, all the aid for the unknown, and the possibility to sing, above all to sing.

Canta México, canta y no llores. 

Comentarios

Entradas populares de este blog

Writing again

Dear JC, It's peculiar, isn't it, how the mind clings to memories, especially those we wish to forget? Some nights, I find myself ensnared in a web of dreams, each thread woven with echoes of you. You, who dominated my thoughts, still reign in the kingdom of my nighttime musings. I remember, with an unsettling clarity, every encounter, every word, and every smirk. The way your laughter would echo down hallways, a haunting melody that played on all my strings. The cold glint in your eyes as you found new ways to assert your dominance, your power, unyielding and absolute. In these dreams, I revisit those days, each detail meticulously preserved in the museum of my mind. The corridors, once mundane, now seem like twisted labyrinths in my dreams, with you as the ever-present Minotaur, both feared and revered. Sometimes, I wonder if you ever think of those days. Do you ever recall the weight of your words and actions? Or have they dissolved into the ether, insignificant and forgotte

Ey woman

Commemorating something in the middle of this mess is hard. In times when liberal dreams are less than zero, and tolerance looks like something we are able to exchange for security, self-reaffirmation or even a joke, it seems like a waste of time to think about the good old days of freedom and equality. The warm days of rights and hope are gone. Don't misinterpret me, I've been trying to continue believing in the idealistic situation of your freedom of constructing equally. I've been trying to impulse this ideal of equality in confusing and anger times, and for sure I see in every woman a person able to be empowered, to construct a better mankind, but I have to tell you it is hard to find a way. Everyone is hiding behind their nihilism, everything is so insecure when we realise that we are just ourselves so connected to create nothing. Even I exchanged the liberal ideas for a while, I played the gender role, and I tried to not question the situations that will brin

Secretos

He prometido tantas cosas últimamente, como guardar silencio en el recuerdo que guarda un poco de momento y otro poco de valor, que se escapa en el deseo inesperado y que atrapa una situación más profunda. Me gustaría alimentar tus pensamientos con todo lo que pasaba por mi mente, no sé si para recrear tu morbo o para distraer al mío. Pero entendiendo que la sensación de lo prohibido es de las cosas que te encantan, y que me gustaría que liberaras más de vez en cuando, sólo para variar. Voy a tratar de cubrir los detalles con un poco de polvo para que los hagan más dudosos a la vista de cualquiera, sabiendo que conoces de memoria cada parte. Es entonces que puedes pensar que las promesas se rompen en la confundida estrategia de recrear en tu mente, pero sólo es para quitarle el tiempo a tu ocio o divertir al mío con sus anhelos. Ocio como el que nos llevó en primer momento a pensar que los detalles iluminan un poco más la mente de dos ansiosos de experimentar tantas cosas como momen