The other day I was asked: Do you still believe in poetry, Clara?
I looked into the interrogator’s sarcastic eyes and replied:
Yes?
What is a poem about the American election?How far can my crying go more impact than the depth of a kiss?What flag could you raise that is more meaningful than a hug?On the scale that measures importance, I go out of line and write a random verse. In the silence of my eyes, I find human sides, what else could I do but look and reveal?
Blind to rudeness, raining and multiplying the love that comes to me, lying in the comfort of a knee, fleeing the machine guns of pain and hatred.
Alienated from this world to build another
As they want to destroy our entire surroundings, I go with a rainbow on the floor of my feet, a missionary of love and freedom, or what floats without rules.
??
A tomato plant appeared on the bed of lettuce, unexpected and welcome, it was due to excessive care of the soil, it was due to the abundance of fertilizer.
Suddenly plants are born in the soil, let it, let the unknown grow
I’m still alienated from the facts to build dreams. I neglect the future to capture moments. Unemployed of grandeur to embarrass me with delicacies.
Deaf great speeches and resolutions to sympathize with helpless glances. Without fully understanding the economic crisis, but feeling aggrieved.
Long before the fear in my veins dares, I disappear my feelings. Poetry supports me in a realistic world.