“La pluma es lengua del alma:
cuales fueren los conceptos que en ella se engendraren,
tales serán sus escritos.”

(Don Quijote a Sancho)



Más de lo que ya
   es habitual
el sinsentido de la vida
Y  las vidas de…
Y el miedo a la …
Me atormentan.
La duda de la razón
y el corazón
 me desalientan
      porque se traicionan.
Por este continuo suplicio
     que es estar
                  sin ser
Cuando los que
 poco entendemos
    sobre la defunción…
…ésta va
se presenta en avalancha
dejando tras de sí
un  centenar de almas
sin completar.

A la Tragedia en Santiago de Compostela.


  1. Sorry: Misrosoft WORD changed some words which made mine meaningless. Here is what I wrote:


    I see this piece as a rare beauty--a memorial in words. Wonderful write...from your heart, soul.

    One of my pursuits involves helping others recover from their addictions. The practice of this work leaves little time to “think”, which—for me--translates “torment” (myself).

    When I am “thinking”, sometimes I perceive an angel hovering nearby. I try then to remember “Was not the devil once the most beautiful, most knowledgeable ANGEL?”

    Nothing in all Creation is “meaningless”, above all other, human life. Those who die—no matter what/how/when/where, have not completed their journey, you write. I agree--because our journeys are ever-and-forever, never completed. There IS no end of it all. Only the “end” I THINK (that word, again!) that I know.

    We mourn, scorn, recover, or maybe not. Time sometimes but not always, heals wounds. But in the end, let us not give up. Persistence, Perseverance, staying busy with whatever, believing and trusting in God’s Wisdom, that He loves us—we continue asking Him to show us His Will, and give us power to carry it out.

    THAT is life! (Now, I wish I could LIVE it as well as write it-grin!)

    Again, D., a true and fine memoriam.