For Mom, or the other side of Spring

Mama, I was born with a defect.

I could have never just laughed,

Just smiled,

Just breathed,

Just be.

I was always reaching to someone I wanted to feel,

To someone I wanted to live,

Someone I wanted to pretend;

And pretend,

Not to you, mama,

Not to others,

But to myself,

Pretend to myself that I could feel anything at all.

Now I cannot speak my poets’ tongue -

So the stars ran away from me,

But perhaps I ran away too?

I don’t know, mama.

I’ve just always been certain of you.

I’ve just always been certain that I longed for a rush:

A rush of youth

A rush of the thrill, the cars, the kisses and raspy breaths and

Rush rush rush!

The land is ours.

Perhaps it is mine too?

I stumbled upon something recently, mama,

Between the roads, the old stones, the heavy cries of people in the subway,

The smell of a dear friend’s food after sadness,

The songs of somewhere far away that embraces me like you do, mama,

Like home.

It used to be in others I found myself

And now I find myself in the arms of a lover;

I found it, mama,

The will, mama,

To live.

The butterflies brought it back

From a time before I was born

And then I noticed that what I had stumbled upon

Was something I longed for:

Myself.

por Maria Rita