viernes, 30 de noviembre de 2007


it tiptoes when hiding,
it marches to the war
delightful under the trees

painful over the stones
it hesitates in a cross road
like a feather when in love

heavy when it is hot
full of pomp when getting married
may stumble when getting old
slow after closing a door

quick under the storm
sometimes leaves lasting footsprints

sometimes it talks in silent roads
it only stops when facing
the sea in its eternal roar

viernes, 16 de noviembre de 2007

I carry

I carry wounds
I carry flowers in the wounds
I carry happiness
I carry sweet words
I carry many smiles
I´ve got to give them
Here they are
Take them
Make them bloom

jueves, 1 de noviembre de 2007

Money on the ground

I have never worried much about money even when I am not a rich person. I do not like to manage money, make transactions or keep money for the future. Even when it may seem naive, I have always thought that I will have money if I need it. I am fully aware that the best of life will not be accomplished with money.
Once I heard of a man that found money in the garbage and went to the police to give the money back Many times I have wondered what would I do if I find a big amount of money somewhere. Well I have found money on the ground several times but just coins, but once I found a bill when I was needing it
That happened some years ago I was walking by the street. I had to buy something but I did not have enough money. Suddenly I look to the ground and behind a fence of a public parking lot I saw a red bill of 5.000 chilean pesos. I walked to the corner and turn right to enter the parking. I entered walking in a normal speed so nobody could imagine I was “in a hurry” for something special. I saw the bill there like in a nest waiting for me. I picked it up and walked very slowly out of the place with my heart beating hard.

viernes, 26 de octubre de 2007

Death in the Hospital

That Sunday I woke up early and I knew I had to run to the Hospital. My father had been there for a week and we knew that there was no hope for him. He had lung cancer. I took a taxi and entered the Hospital. I arrived to the room he was the day before but he was not there. I asked to a nurse and she did not know what had happened. I began walking through several rooms asking and it was difficult to know. The Hospital is very big and they said maybe it was in the UCI (Unidad de cuidados intensivos)
I walked for several minutes and at last I found him. He was in bright room in the fifth floor. His eyes were closed and he was like sleeping but his breathing was short.
I talked to him in his ear but he did not make any movement. I put my hand over his head and stayed there praying for a moment. I did not know what to do. In that moment I knew he was by himself facing death. There was nothing else I could do. I walked out the room very slowly but very quiet knowing he was going in peace.

sábado, 29 de septiembre de 2007

viernes, 31 de agosto de 2007

No end - Sin final

Who can quite explain

what happens in the soul

when love is born or dies?

For me it was born of whispers

in the middle of the night

suddenly and without warning

my heart was changed

and I wanted to shout in silence

for the wonderful discovery

that I was capable of everything

almost, almost like God.

The midday sun

shining with new brilliance

showed me humbly

in ways magic and beautiful

all the goodness of the earth.

I can't explain, I know,

about the end of this feeling

since it remained with me

I am sure forever

Sin final

¿Quien puede dar cuenta exacta

de lo que pasa en el alma

cuando el amor nace o muere?

Para mí nació en murmullo

cuando en medio de la noche

de pronto y sin aviso

se mudó mi corazón,

y quise gritar callando

por la hermosa convicción

de que era capaz de todo

casi, casi como Dios.

Y en medio del día el sol

brillando con fuerza nueva

me mostró con humildad

de forma mágica y bella

todo lo bueno en la tierra

No puedo dar cuenta sé,

del final del sentimiento,

ya que se quedó conmigo

estoy segura para siempre

sábado, 25 de agosto de 2007

Delight in despair

Some time ago I usually had to cross a kilometer at night to get to the school I worked in the mountains. When we forgot to carry the lantern we had to walk in the dark...the experience was frightening, strange but beautiful because it made us face nature without any modern "weapon" but our body

Walking in the dark
walking on the stones
of a muddy road
in winter with rain
The feeling of nothingness
in front of my face
my hand avoids touching
the barbed wire fence
The wind of the night
talking to the trees
makes the leaves to whisper
jingle bell like words
That sinking feeling
makes me taste
the pleasure of finding
delight in despair

viernes, 10 de agosto de 2007

The scary of the "maqui"

When I was a child I spent the summer in the country. That place in the mountains had some thermal baths and my cousin and I used to go there to spend the time under the sun and into the rock tub. A big stream of water came out of the rock and fell into the rock tub. It was very nice to stay there listening to the roaming of the water as it dropped into the tub.
We always went there walking and we sometimes stopped on the road to eat some grains of a bush called “maqui” . It has a little grain that it is black when it is ripe and ready to be eaten. We ate that and our mouth and tongue were completely black after eating it. We had to be very careful not to let some grains fell on our clothes because it was difficult to remove the black stains.
A day that we were walking to that place we suddenly heard the galloping of a horse approaching . We looked to the road and saw a horse galloping in the same direction. We moved to the side to watch and let him pass. A man was on the horse and he had a whip in his hand. He moved the whip all the way round crying unintelligible loud words.As we saw him we could see his face blackened by the grains of maqui, we were frightened and began to run. He began galloping harder behind us. As he could not cross the fence we did cross it and hided among the bushes. He cried and cried a lot saying strange words. We thought he was drunk. That time was the most scary I had spent during my childhood We had to stay there for a long time and after some minutes that seemed to be hourse he began galloping again and lost in the distance

sábado, 14 de julio de 2007

Vick`s transgression

Some years ago when I was a teenager a strange young man arrived to my city. He had very long hair flying in the air.
He came to study at the University in my town. People in my country and most in the area I live have prejudices against people that are different in some way or have different customs, and during that time it was worse. Many people cried big words to him in the street and even threw stones to him. But he bore that in a peaceful way. He was a chilean hippie. I had the chance to meet him because he lived with some relatives of mine. He was a fun interesting boy and he enjoyed writing poetry . I enjoyed his company and may be I fell in love with him. He has been adopted in USA by his parents that lived there for some time. He had been born in Vicksburg and for that reason his name was Vick. I now remember that long haired different boy in this land where he was not welcome but I made him feel better

sábado, 7 de julio de 2007

The pond

The word slippery reminds me of a pond that was near a country house I used to go when I was a child. The pond was surrounded by ferns and willows. An old boat carved from a tree was there and we used paddling and watching the smoothy green surface of the bottom that like a dancing gelatine moved as we paddled
We were not allowed to go there because adults thought that it was dangerous to walk into the water and fell .
But the feeling of that soft green velvet was much more interesting and appealing than the warnings and we managed go there for the pleasure of an exciting adventure
We walked near the fence of the pond pretending that we would go farther but we crossed the wooden door and entered in the forbidden place.
We entered the water bare foot very slowly trying to keep the balance on the smooth rocks. The feeling was incredible and the fun was just walking balanced and feeling that slippery velvet under our feet

jueves, 21 de junio de 2007

A secret

A secret is something that we intentionally hide . But as we are all different is is according to our own personality and culture what things are to be kept.
I have a detective personality. I enjoy finding out things people hide.
I love crime stories where it is necessary to guess all the purposes a person may have had to commit a crime.
I think that a secret is always painful, like a sting hurting . The less secrets we have the happier and truer we are. What do you think?

domingo, 3 de junio de 2007

The peace of the country was broken

A special remembrance is bonded to my childhood. I think I was 7 when I spent the summer with my parents and my two brothers in the country near the Andes mountains.
I did not live with them at that time and they invited me for the holidays. The days were perfect and calm. I enjoyed the frenzied love song of the frogs croaking in the ponds at night; that was the only sound that could be heard under the sky full of stars. During the day I loved to go to a “quinta” with very old trees where the fruits were very small because the trees were so old that they had nothing else to give. I enjoyed looking at his twisted branches that seemed that wanted to scratch the sky, and its barks full of knots and marks.
That summer quietness was suddenly broken when the Llaima volcano began roaring and the earth moved during the day. We went near the river and watched the growing level of the waters as the time passed
The big eruption began in the afternoon when there was still day light and we had to run to a hill to save our lives. Many people and animals died during that eruption. The next day we could see the house and all the surroundings full of sand and rocks, it was very sad, we left and we never return to that place again.

jueves, 24 de mayo de 2007


nothing is so simple
like the dream we have
of something beautiful
that has not begun

viernes, 11 de mayo de 2007

Second chance

I think there are no second chances. Things happen once and never happen again the same. Second chance means to repeat something again. But even if we tried to repeat a moment again it would never be the same. When looking to the past I sometimes “live again” some beautiful moments that come to my mind clearly as when they were lived and I am also able to enjoy those thoughts more vivid because some other things make me feel the smells, music, light, time of the day, season etc.
Our chances are the moments we live when we live them and that is why it is so important to recognize the moments and give all the best to them

viernes, 27 de abril de 2007


There is a special event that makes me fly and it is related with time and our need for endless time for the things we like ......I fly in the flight of the hummingbird´s wings when he comes to suck the "fucsia" plant that is in front of the window of my back garden This beautiful little bird makes quick sudden movements around the plant moving its wings so quickly that it is almost difficult to see them. It is like a dance that is always unpredictable and all of a sudden he dissapears. I always remain with a strange feeling of sadness because they show how impossible is to enjoy more of their magnificient dance and how impossible would be to keep them or make them keep flying for our pleasure. They are like many beautiful things that come to us in life but will go in a definite time because that is the way life is, we are always greedy with nice things and want to keep them for long but the hummingbird shows me that all beautiful things have their time and it is determined how long they will stay for us.

viernes, 20 de abril de 2007


Rootlessness……….yes I think I am rather rootless, that is why I “travel” in my mind to other places to find that spot that could make me feel attached to....but I do not find it and I do not think I would ever find it discarting others. I really prefer to be an outsider. I admire and enjoy diversity I seldom feel comfortable in my place. I am like a foreigner in my own land. Looking at the good side of this I think I am lucky to be as free as a bird with no flag, no frontiers, no cliché personal identification.
Most wars are because people fight for their land, their culture, their traditions. I only watch and admire so many cultures, so many lands, so many traditions and so much diversity that it is impossible to feel that the wonderful tapestry of differences cannot be worth and wonderful.