miércoles, 2 de abril de 2008

Mes del bebé muerto semana No.1/ The poet of Ignorance



Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do know.
Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.
There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses and the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.
I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to belive in dreams?
Anne Sexton
La fotografía de: Dash Snow, Untitled (Jesus loves u), 2003.



2 comentarios:

bubamara dijo...

me da miedito el título de tu entrada. recuerda que te quiero mucho amiga ave y te mando un abrazototote :)

La Chili dijo...

Yo me pregunto si perdiste a un hijo no nacido, porque esa es una experiencia dura, en la que conviene platicar con quienes ha pasado por lo mismo, porque es un duelo de muerte que dura sus 40 semanas, pero no se, si necesitas...., estoy.