Inefficient Day

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

http://rosariocuriel.blogspot.com/