Escribir Para Vivir

A summer visiting family in Barcelona is when I discovered who I would be before I was ready.

I was 15.
Vapid and unaware.
But driven by the Sandman’s dust hanging over my head.
And you must have sensed that Tio because you asked me
in what few words I could understand what I wanted to do,
and “Yo quiero escribir poemas” rolled off my tongue
because I was struggling to find the words
that could explain how I wanted to give birth
to pirates and and disease and cannibals
and build paper homes for my spawn
nailed together by an indestructible force
flowing from my hand.

And because, behind you,
there was a clean, white book
standing up on the table that entranced me
with giant, capital letters
embracing its cover:

POEMAS

-M. Sanchez

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s