La piel - Poema // The skin - Poem
Hace ya algún tiempo he venido meditando sobre el aceptarse a uno mismo y el transcurrir del tiempo, de las transiciones intrapersonales, la vejez, la juventud, etc. Y para hablar de lo interno he tenido la peculiaridad de mostrarlo a través de imágenes superficiales. Sí me lees desde hace un tiempo recordarás que uno de mis últimos poemas publicados hacen referencia a las cosas que nos hacen darnos cuenta de que el tiempo pasa y nosotros pasamos con él. Envejecer. Crecer. Y usé el cuerpo como imagen referencial de ello, la cosa más evidente que tenemos de que el tiempo pasa. Y muchas veces no nos percatamos de eso.
He ente poema he intentado, de una manera sencilla, hablar de eso, de que el cuerpo nos habla del tiempo, y que no nos damos cuenta, o simplemente no nos percatamos de ellos, nos reunamos a envejecer. Pero hay que aprender a aceptarla. Sin más que agregar, el poema:
La piel
Hoy me veo con una nueva arruga en la cara. La miro con delicadeza para que no sienta rechazo. No quiero que se sienta triste o que este no es su cuerpo. Le guiño el ojo como un coqueteo y me sonrojo. Y ella, muy sutil ocupa su lugar en la piel.
Hello, dear steemit friends. It's been a while since my last post. Writing is a hard process, which in most cases is reflected in absence. There is an inner need to slip away from reality to meditate on it, to face it. This makes it difficult for me to publish constantly, in addition to the difficulties I face on a daily basis. There are times, too, when silence is necessary, and a small desire is born not to write or to write in silence or simply to become mute. And to talk about silence and meditation there are the Saints of the Catholic Church, which I am not, but from time to time I read them to understand silence and meditation.
For some time now I have been meditating on the acceptance of oneself and the passing of time, of intrapersonal transitions, old age, youth, etc. And to talk about the internal I have had the peculiarity of showing it through superficial images. If you have been reading me for some time you will remember that one of my last published poems refers to the things that make us realize that time passes and we pass with it. Growing old. Growing up. And I used the body as a referential image of it, the most obvious thing we have that time passes. And many times we don't realize that.
In this poem I tried, in a simple way, to talk about that, that the body tells us about time, and that we don't realize, or we just don't realize it, we are getting older. But we must learn to accept it. Without further ado, the poem:
The skin
Today I see myself with a new wrinkle on my face. I look at her gently so she doesn't feel rejection. I don't want her to feel sad or that this is not her body. I wink at her as a flirt and blush. And she, very subtly takes her place on the skin.
All photos are my own
