Wednesday, January 8, 2014

The Story Of My Body

Everything started the day I was born, that’s when all my features came to light and everybody analyzed me from head to toe. My mother always thought that I was a very beautiful and somewhat quiet baby. I really believe that that was my mom’s love talking. I only have a few pictures of how my body looked like when I was a baby. My mother is with me in every picture and I can see how much she loves me in each one of them. Soon, I began to walk and talk and my mother changed her mind about how quiet I was since I clearly remember the lack of silence when I was awake.

A few years passed after my birth and my body became that of a little girl. When I was 5 years old, I had a big belly, skinny legs, short dark brown hair, and an inquisitive look. If I had short hair it was just because of my mother.  She used to cut my hair since she was the only one who put up with the daily struggles to brush and braid my hair. I think my screams were heard in the whole block and our neighbors used to take my screams as the alarm to wake up their children to go to school. What was interesting about this situation was that my mother knew that the minute I walked out of the house, my hair would be a mess again.

Despite these daily “struggles,” I was a very happy girl. I grew up within a group of about 15 kids (siblings, cousins, friends, neighbors, and whoever showed up,) most of them were boys. We used to escape with my granny to play in the river that crossed our country house; that’s how I hurt my left foot and knee, climbing trees and stealing apples. The marks on my skin are my personal tattoos, now I look at them and I smile while remembering my past. These marks take me back to those moments of innocence, credulity and admiration.

So, time passed and I became a teenager, I was a skinny girl with pale skin, very expressive eyes, thick eyebrows, and long and messy hair.  Around those years, years of discovery, curiosity and rebellion, I started to change the color of my hair, sometimes it was deep black, others it was purple or blue, all depended on my mood. My face, although pale for the lack of sun exposure, showed the forgotten innocence and the desperation to grow up. You could see in my eyes the hunger for a different future, I wanted to discover the world and travel without looking back. I didn’t know that in foreign countries, I would become more aware of the features I possess. In faraway lands, I am no longer the girl with pale skin or expressive eyes, I simply became a Latina.

It is sad to find out that I am to the world only what my surface shows; I am no longer the woman with indigenas roots, who were conquered by the Spaniards, someone who likes to travel, read and think freely.  All of these features disappear the moment I open my mouth and pronounce my name. My essence disappears within the stereotype of who I am supposed to be. According to the stereotype to which I belong, I should know how to dance salsa, I should love the kind of music that makes you wanna move your body, and I should be more relaxed with the world and its intrinsic events. But, I am not like that at all and those characteristics don’t interest me that much. As time passes by, I realize that what I am and who I am goes beyond my physical features, the color of my skin or the shape of my feet. Through the years, if my body used to grow and change, now it only ages. My hands have these little spots, marks of the passage of time and the few occasions I dared to cook, my mom says that all these spots are the result of hot oil splashed in my skin.

My eyes, more than expressive have become somewhat wiser, they have witnessed the best moments of my life as well as the injustices of this world.  My face has wrinkles, and each one of them represents the times I cried, laughed or the times I was amazed. Personally, I think that the majority of my wrinkles belong to the happy moments of my life but I must clarify that the wrinkles in my forehead are the result of frowning my forehead during many afternoons under the sun without decent sunglasses. All these characteristics made me think that the way I see myself, is only mine, very personal and "private." Only I can determine my flaws and attributes. I know that I can be a little fat for many while for others I can be a little skinny, for some others I am petite while for others I am tall. For some, the color of my skin is dark while for others my skin is plainly pale.

Although, whenever I go back to the place I was born, everybody knows that I am a “serrana” since my body lacks the characteristics of a woman from the Coast or even a woman from the Oriente (the jungle.) These are voluptuous women with flirty looks and curves that melt any man. I am not like that, quite the contrary, when someone who doesn't know me sees me for the first time, s/he has the impression that I am angry, upset or too serious. I usually reserve my smile for those I know; and the curves of my body (if any) are covered with layers of clothes and sweaters that little to nothing is left for the eyes of strangers.

But it doesn't really matter what the whole world thinks of me. I admit that I love my body with all its flaws, unique features, and all its spots and marks. Every feature is mine and only mine, my big forehead, my lips with a unique shape made only for me. I love my arms, they are proportional to the size of my body, and these hands of mine, they carry in one of their fingers the symbol of the eternal union with the man I love. My legs and my feet have walked through paths made only for me and in turn they have created paths for others to discover. I love the way my body is becoming the diary where I write the events of my life, wherever I am, I know that what I am, is camouflaged under the wrapping of this skin that one day will become only dust.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Estar Enamorada

Estar enamorada es despertar cada mañana y sentir el calor de tu cuerpo junto al mío,
es escucharte cantar y pensar que eres un tenor, todo sea por el amor,
es esperar con ansias tu llegada y con una sonrisa llenarte todo de los besos míos,
es sujetar tu mano y caminar junto a ti en el silencio de la noche y la claridad del día.

Estar enamorada es aceptarte tal y como eres con tus virtudes y tus errores,
es acompañarte en los momentos difíciles y hacerte confesar lo que tu corazón esconde,
es creer incondicionalmente en este amor tan nuestro, tan eterno y un tanto menguante,
es permanecer juntos en las buenas, las malas y en las peores, especialmente en las peores.

Estar enamorada es mirarte a los ojos y sentirme la mujer más completa en este mundo,
es escuchar nuestras canciones y sonreír al recordar lo que hemos vivido juntos,
es dejarme llevar por nuestros ideales y existir en un mundo más sensible y más justo,
es bailar sin música, cantar a todo pulmón y observar las estrellas hasta que salga el sol.

Estar enamorada es entender y apreciar lo mucho que significa tu existencia en mi vida,
es compartir todos mis secretos, dudas y temores y sentirme tan tuya y sentirte tan mío,
es saber que te pertenezco en cuerpo y alma siendo libre de ser yo y nadie más que yo,
es amarte como si fuera aquel día en que mi corazón descubrió que serias mi único amor.

Estar enamorada es vivir cada día como si fuera el último y amarte con euforia loca,
es entregarme por completo a este amor que me alimenta el alma y me mejora toda,
Estar enamorada es amar como te amo y dejarte en libertad de ser tú y solamente tú,
es dar gracias por tenerte en mi vida con las ansias locas de que envejezcamos juntos.

¡Te Amo!

Thursday, June 6, 2013


Let’s dance, let’s forget about the loss of those we loved
let’s dance, until our feet hurt, until they bleed
let’s get high on love, let’s get high on hope
let’s forget the sorrows, let’s be reborn and let’s be loved

Let’s love each other, let’s face this life, there is only one
let’s learn from the past and then leave it behind
let’s forgive those who hurt us, let’s forgive ourselves

Come on! Scream, scream! Let it all out
sing as if your lungs were about to collapse
smile, laugh, life is so brief and we are so absurdly proud
let’s wear our best clothes, let’s celebrate this day, this moment, this love of ours

Let’s enjoy our lives now ‘cause tomorrow might never come
let’s leave our vices, these evil habits, let’s leave them all behind
let’s be free, free from reality, free from ourselves
let's hold hands, let our souls do the talking and become one
let’s go to all those places we’ve always dreamt of
life is too brief and this world is so damn incredible

Let’s dance, let’s breathe, let’s enjoy this life
tomorrow might never come, tomorrow might never come
let’s grow old... but let’s grow old together
for this love is unconditional, unmistakable, unique and only ours.

Come on...let’s!

Monday, April 15, 2013

Comfort Me... Don't Comfort Me

Comfort me in times of sadness, please comfort me, don’t leave me alone,
my hands looked for you as you vanished with my heart in the middle of the night,
my eyes are all red, filled with tears of solitude and despair,
comfort me, please comfort me, hold me tight, don’t let me fall.

I fell, you weren't there. My voice disappeared, my hands got tired, they let you go.
This darkness gave me a fright, this solitude taught me to fight;
this sadness strengthened my heart, these awakenings opened my eyes,
all those words galloped from my mouth as if they weren't mine,
don’t comfort me, just let me grow, let me fail, let me stand on my own.

Some time has passed and I find myself all alone,
the pains I faced, the tears I cried, all the screams I no longer hold
have liberated my soul;
the anger, exasperation, frustration and remorse
have submissively hid under my feet...

And I trample on my past, I leave behind the shadow I used to be,
I give myself a second chance, I give myself a new loving heart;
don’t comfort me, please don’t comfort me,
let me go, let me grow, let me stand on my own,
don’t comfort me, please just don’t comfort me.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Why Am I So Afraid?

Why am I so afraid of my sudden happiness?
why do I have to be sad in a sunny day?
I ask myself these questions while I can no longer contain my tears.

I wake up and a sudden burden weighs me down, 
I force myself to smile, I force myself to breath,
the day goes on as if I were a character in a silent movie, 
no song, no smile, no nothing, emptiness everywhere.

The afternoons are the worst, 
my mind is left alone to wander to those places I am not supposed to go.
The quietness of my loneliness echoes in my head,
this silence makes too much noise; I hush my silence, it disappears, it fades away;
and I am left alone, all alone with my own thoughts.

At the end of the day, I see my loved one, I smile; 
my soul finds some kind of quietness, some kind of peace.
At the end of the day, I have to remind myself that I am loved.
At the end of the day, I have to remind myself that I am alive.