The woman is gone...
She left the minute
She heard the war call...
The mother is gone too
With her baby all grow up
There is no need for a mom
The artist remain
She will write the chronicles
Of the war...
And the warrior will fight
To the end
With all her might.
Bilingual Blog about poetry, short stories and some random pondering about life, culture and love as I understand it.
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The Cycle
Life is a cycle..or better yet, a series of cycles. We must learn to start, and then, to stop. Finish and close all cycles and start new o...
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Today I stop by this little park in my son old school. Long time ago, in this same place, I asked him and his classmates what did they wan...
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I am done with the drama people that run around the world pretending to be who they are not... I am done with the emotional needy... eve...
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se me antoja que la vida es como ellas... pasajera e incierta que nos depara esa nube gris que se acerca lentamente en la distancia? traera ...
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