Desde hace ya varios años no escribo por "placer sentimental"... ¡Sí, sí! Me encanta escribir, investigar y divulgar mis ideas (¡y además me pagan por eso!), pero creo que he perdido un poco de mi espíritu aventurero/vale-madres que tenia la década pasada.
Hoy decidí retomar un pedazo de mi espíritu puberto, y escribí un (intento de) poema/carta a las personas ciegas.
When a person is blind, they can't see beyond their pupils
The pupils that were developed with the salt of the sea and the soil of the earth
With the winds of enchantment and the land of the caged
And while I acknowledge that no element is perfect, their visual impairment continues to stab my soul,
the soul that one day believed in eternal love.
When a person is blind, they plead conceits of feelings that words cannot describe
The words that once I attempted to communicate but that were thrown to the dark
The words that were ignored because they were in a foreign language
The words that were irrelevant because of lack of public attention
I wonder if they, at least, have a clue of what I sought to communicate in such a special moment.
When a person is blind, they go to sleep thinking that the peace of the night will solve what they cannot see
What they have slowly left behind
What could be delightful love but what repeatedly feels like remote affection.
When a person is blind, the joy of love haltingly evaporates.
-BGA (o MYS)
