Desperate voices

In the middle of a storm I can observe,

what life whispers behind my back.

And as I see her turn her face away,

I can see my world turning black.


Now I see the shy lightning bolts,

appear in the middle of the gray.

Looking directly at us.


Just under sinister sheets,

the shackles for now quiet and dark,

waiting for murmurations in the lonely streets,

hearing desperate voices scream outside.





For all those who are not here

For all those who are not here we sing to the mountains. For all those no one will forget and will keep living in our minds. For all those who are not here we pray to the sky, for them to have a good trip and be forever free. Those who are now so confusing that we can’t see them between the crowd or flying with the birds, those who have gone because they had to. For all of them is that we write stories and we sing songs, for all those who are right now watching us from above.

Death is a pillage, always stalking. We can find it just around the corner, with or without any intention. No matter what we do, she will be waiting for us but until the day we stop living, we will be singing to the mountains and praying to the sky for the ones that have gained a place in our hearts. For all those who we love and are not here.




Nightfall dreams

Nightfall just beside them. The moon just by their side. And darkness always waiting for them to come, to erase her loneliness. Just watching them pass by, waving to her didn’t satisfied her; she asked them to go to live with her forever. To give her the dreams she needed to feel alive again. They did. Without thinking, without looking. They lifted flight, crossed the sky, to leave the dreams they carried in the land they could see ahead. But they slipped out of their hands, approximating to her, heading to the sky. They followed them, hoping for them to come back, they were lost in the dark mantle.

They are part of the stars now. Permanently in the sky, with no way to go out since they are unable to fly back with both wings broken. Nightfall is already set again, everything dark and silent. But now, upon the darkness of this nightfall, there are new eyes watching us. An airplane flying through stories not forgotten, through those dreams that didn’t need to buy a stairway to heaven and glory because they already had it. Those that sometimes vanish at daylight but keep fluttering at night. Those that once laughed with joy, just before they held their breath and closed their eyes.


I don’t know if it can be noticed in the short story but I needed to express my feelings about the accident of the airplane in which traveled the Brazilian football team Chapecoense that fell apart yesterday night (November 28) in Antioquia, Colombia (my country). An aerial tragedy that left 71 dead and 6 injured. I’m really sorry for what happened and my deepest condolences if someone related to any of the passengers is reading this. 


Sueños de anochecer

Anochecer justo a su lado. La luna acompañándolos. Y la oscuridad siempre esperando a que lleguen, para borrar de una vez por todas su soledad. Sólo viéndolos pasar, saludándola, no la satisfacía; les pidió irse a vivir con ella para siempre. Entregarle los sueños que ella necesitaba para sentirse viva otra vez. Lo hicieron. Sin pensarlo, sin mirar. Levantaron vuelo, cruzaron el cielo, para dejar los sueños que cargaban en la tierra que podían ver adelante. Pero se les resbalaron de las manos, aproximándose a ella, rumbo al cielo. Los siguieron, con la esperanza de que regresaran, se habían perdido en el oscuro manto.

Son parte de las estrellas ahora. Permanentemente en el cielo, sin forma de salir ya que son incapaces de colar devuelta con ambas alas rotas. El anochecer llega otra vez, todo oscuro y silencioso. Pero ahora, sobre la oscuridad de este anochecer, hay ojos nuevos observándonos, Un avión volando a través de historia no olvidadas, a través de esos sueños que no necesitaban comprar una escalera al cielo y a la gloria porque ya la tenían. Aquellos que a veces se desvanecen a la luz del día pero que continúan revoloteando durante la noche. Aquellos que una vez se rieron con alegría antes de contener su respiración y cerrar sus ojos.