Se viene conmigo / Is Coming With Me

~ Live & Learn

I’m just a step away
And for the first time
I don’t want to keep walking
I’m fine here
I’m this
I’ve gotten used to this
And this has gotten used to me
I don’t mean that after this step I’ll stop being this
But the fear to the next chapter
The fear to my character walking over to the other side of this imaginary line overwhelms me
It gives me the creeps and the premature nostalgia overtakes my body

This is how I am, because here I walk
But who knows how I will be over other asphalts
I find myself on one side of the line
The one from the present, with a past behind
This is everything that has filled my bag during this time
This is what I am
And I like it

But even if it were not so
I could not escape
There’s no emergency exit to escape from one’s self fire
On the other end of the stripe is my next time
With ambitions, dreams and promises to fill another bag
With other people, other places, other flavors and sounds
I”m afraid of stepping beyond the line
I’m afraid of leaving this asphalt, grey, in which nothing stands out
I’m afraid of changing the color of my nights, thought I never liked this light
I’m afraid of putting out this fire. Of smelling no memories.
I’m afraid of losing this form. I’m afraid of transforming myself.

I am this face.
I am this floor I step on
I am this land, tilled by others.
I am this weather.
I am this wine.
I am this square.
I am this plain.
I am this river.
And this city.
I am the street.
I am what my body oozes because of this I fed it.
And wherever I will be, this broth I carry it with me
This is what I am
And no matter how many lines I cross, my essence
Is coming with me

~ Maria Strada

18 thoughts on “Se viene conmigo / Is Coming With Me”

    2. And it reminds me of another poem that I’m not sure I fully grasp (“From his masters he had learned that immensity makes the small crucial. A little poem before a big war becomes a necessity…)

      From his masters he had learned that immensity makes the small crucial. A little poem before a big war becomes a necessity.

      And like a small poem on a long scroll, a lily pad appeared on the pond. P stopped to peer. He puzzled through its pattern of green inside green on water.

      A poem began to perfuse. It was inside P, but it was also on the lily pad.

      At    …    On    …    At first only prepositions came to him.

      He stared into the water, seeing the silvery clouds reflected. Then he leaned at an extreme angle and noticed the pattern of his gown wavering in the reeds. A pinpoint of a poem stabbed him, like the sharp scent of earth before the rain. Petrichor: before, before.

      — Molly Peacock, “The Poet,” Poetry.

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  2. “There’s no emergency exit to escape from one’s self fire, my essence Is coming with me” These are beautiful words that hold so much truth about what we hold within, and no matter how far we may go or change, this essence, our soul, memories and beliefs, remain with us. Very moving David.

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  4. Moving….I love how she captures the reality that we cannot escape ourselves, and am also struck by the beautiful way that she articulates our need to change and at the same time our innate fear of same. “I’m afraid of changing the color of my nights, thought I never liked this light.” Thanks for sharing this one, pal…

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