...A Pocas Palabras

The Sky The sunrise witness sky lies down on the setting night. Lonely, dark, empty. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

Today,   I ask for patience And forgiveness For I am taking small steps now. I'm in need of time, I'm in need of tenderness, And I hope That one day I'll be able to take large steps again. I'm in need of a peaceful meanwhile Knowing you'll be watching And you haven't forgotten about me, Knowing that all I want is to return to you... But I need to take small steps now. Tell me you'll keep track of me, So I'd know I won't stop walking. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Los pasos cortos Hoy Te pido paciencia Y perdón Porque me encuentro dando los pasos cortos. Necesito tiempo, Necesito ternura, Y espero Que un día Pueda dar los pasos largos otra vez. Necesito un mientras tanto pacífico Sabiendo que me estarás viendo Y que no te has olvidado de mí, Sabiendo que todo lo que quiero ...

We might be old,                      uncool,                      or unworthy. We might be hated,                      mean,                      or criticized. We might be interesting,                       lonely,                       or popular. We might be athletic,                       bony,                       or fat. We might be mysterious,                       dangerous,                       anxious,     ...

I've played your game, You've played mine. I've failed on your game, You haven't quite finished mine. I've been left now here alone, Feeling despair, Waiting for you to come back for me,  Once more, Eager,  To finally play my game.  © 2015 Grecia Albornoz ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Nosotros He jugado tu juego, Has jugado el mío. He perdido en tu juego, Tu no has terminado completamente el mío. Me he quedado aquí sola ahora, Sintiendo la desesperanza, Esperando a que tu vengas por mí, Una vez más, Ansioso,  A finalmente jugar mi juego. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

I’m the only Me that I have How can I loathe Me? I’m my only vehicle My only land My first experience of life I’m my lonely Me My hated Me My darkest Me My house My soul My mind Nobody would give me another Me to be How couldn’t I love Me? My beaten Me My scared Me My mistaken Me My feeble Me My miserable Me I have never seen someone quite like Me As rare As all the things I am Why wouldn’t I like Me If I’m my only Me? I’m sorry you cannot see Me I’m not here to be seen I’m here to be As you’re there to be, too. I’m only my only Me I have The only one I could ever call Me And I cannot, By the strength of the fiercest spells, Lose my Me. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

Dicen de ti, Pequeña Venecia, Que entre tus llanos y valles, m ontañas y selvas, Que en tu desconcertante belleza Vive tu gente risueña Espejo de tus entrañas Que al necesitado todo le ofrecen Y a las almas perdidas rescatan Humilde Patria solidaria Nunca has negado tu brisa, Ni al que representa amenaza. Tu nobleza, tu riqueza,  tu temperamento y ligereza Te han sido heredadas Por tus venas la sangre De la playa y de la lanza, del dominio y la flaqueza Tus puertas abiertas al expatriado acogen Como a la infortunada mezcla De un Romeo y una Julieta Escapados de la muerte a Venezuela ¡Oh! ¡Sirvienta de la gracia! ¡Oh! ¡Regalo a la existencia! Víctima de tanta entrega Despojada de tus riquezas Despedazada ante los fríos ojos de tus hijos Que en tu nombre tus bienes disponen ¿Condenas a los amantes o te condenas a la miseria? Enfrentan Romeo y Julieta los retos de tu escasez En tu lamento y tristeza se forman en líneas rectas ...

Tu vacío Mi vacío Tu tristeza Mi tristeza Tu pasado  Y mi pasado Se juntan Apresuradamente Se disfrazan  De consuelo Y crecen A tu pulso Tus abrazos  Se sienten míos Tus tristezas Tus vacíos Y los míos Crecen A mi pulso Y Se ocultan Se abandonan Por presentes De nuevos vacíos Y tristezas Que crecen. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

The voice in my head Pleaded to give him space And so I did. Through the windows of my eyes I saw him leave, Just slowly… The voice in my head was right; I'm not speaking to it anymore. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz La voz en mi cabeza Rogó que le diera espacio Y así lo hice. A través de las ventanas de mis ojos Lo vi partir, Poco a poco… La voz en mi cabeza tenía razón; Ya no le hablo más. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

  So, I was actually googling “why is it so difficult to get a master’s degree” and I couldn’t empathize with my fellow MA student bloggers I read (if not for the financial problems they had). I just can’t relate to them.  They were sad that they didn’t have enough time to socialize with friends and family, that they former classmates were already making a lot of money and progressing in their jobs while these MA students were “stuck” still studying so they didn’t have a pride-worthy topic of discussion on their dinner tables, and that their study load was too much to handle. I’m sorry, I can’t relate. I have the socio-economical-political situation in my country (Venezuela) to thank for my held back progress in life and feel bad about it; not my master’s studies; also, I’m not that much of a social person (despite being a teacher); and very few people actually require/demand my constant attention to them. My master’s is just a reflection of the world outside of it ...

Cuando la gente busca metáforas para representar un trabajo arduo, incesante y no reconocido, llega con frecuencia a la imagen de la hormiga; que nunca descansa, que siempre trabaja cada instante de su vida, que es solo una pequeña invisible en el mundo de los grandes y que es a su vez un millar de ellas, pequeñas, insignificantes, incansables. Su labor nos recuerda al todo y a la nada. Poco saben. No creen más que en la jornada, voluntarias del cansancio, víctimas creadoras, incomprendidas, indispensables, utilizadas. La hormiga es siempre la misma, en todas sus generaciones.     A veces quisiera ser como ellas y compartir su valor. El que no se ve a sí mismo, siempre quiere ser otro. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz The ant     When people search for metaphors to represent arduous, unceasing, and unrecognized work, the image of the ant often reaches their minds. Unresting, working every instant of its life, it is just one small invisible ...

Dear 14-year-old me, Hello darling, how long will it take you to understand and accept that this letter is written from a 28-year-old you? I just turned 28 last Tuesday or I should say you just turned 28 last Tuesday. Throughout the years I have been collecting a series of experiences that I think I can share with you right now through this letter. However, our journey is still not over, don’t you ever think that! I know what you think about the world, I know you convictions. You are strong; stronger than many kids your age, you should know that. You are only starting to discover the world and people around you, as if you were opening your eyes for the very first time. You are lucky, very lucky! You should be a little happier for that reason. And you are a dreamer, you cannot fool me; I know you very well! Isn’t life just a little better in your head? But darling, that is not life. God has given you a broad imagination, use it! It is WON-DER-FUL! You know something? You shoul...