Sometimes the day takes a turn like a corner:
it waits for
you there, with its fingernails hidden,
waiting for
you to let yourself go and lose
the seconds
the little
millimeters of your solitary soul.
The world is
made
of little
moments in which
-they say-
you should
give something back
for
occupying a centimeter of life.
But
sometimes it happens that you’re tired
because that’s
being human:
not to give
two hundred percent every micro millimeter of a second.
So sometimes
you sleep under the awnings of your life
the eagerness
of a bat that flies at night
in spite of
all the days freezes up on you
and you
expand into that space in which you are you without attributes
without
hours
with no
hurries
barely
moving.
You relax. You
breathe.
You decide
not to kill
the elf of
time
and you put
an inefficient day underway:
a day in
which you stray
somewhat
from routine
to catch the
breath of time
and the
eagerness to fly
aside from
the hurried flight
beyond the
corners
that turn
and attack you
so that you
can stop
and pick up
the little pieces
of your
fragmented soul.
Originally
published in Spanish by Rosario Curiel at 22:19, June 29, 2017
