Noticias Libres

Needless to say, I am excited.

:D
http://www.nwanews.com/nl/Noticias/4318/

There's the link for the story.

Urge to escape

I have been letting myself down a lot lately, contradicting my very nature.
I've come to crash again great obstacles beyond my control and even when I know the most powerful thing I have against them is my attitude and outlook, I have let frustration take over my heart.....
This cannot be so. I am not this. I have to get up and be what I've always been. And smile, even when I don't have a peso in my pocket and it seems I need about a million. Or when I don't have the energy to move a finger, but I need to move a mountain.
I have to look for the energy and the hope outside myself. I don't have them. I know that. Give me the heart to come back. I want to come back to You, but I'm on the way. Don't let me be on the way. Let me escape and find Your open arms. I need a hug from you, or maybe..... un jalon de orejas. But I need to feel You, somehow, in this numbness of mine.

Something Beautiful

Sometimes things are better said with borrowed words... maybe words better heard with music. As I sit in front of this screen, once again, I wonder how hot it is outside and how I could just go out and stand under the sun until I feel sweat coming down my forehead. Just so I can feel alive. Sometimes we need prove of that, sometimes it's necessary to get out of the cool routine I hate so much. Sometimes we need to feel thirst to remember what it's like to feel human.

Close my eyes and hold my heart.
Cover me and make me something.
Change this something normal into something beautiful.

What I get from my reflection isn't what I thought I'd see.
Give me reason to believe you'd never keep me incomplete.
Will you untie this loss of mine, it easily defines me.
Do you see it on my face?
That all I can think about is how long I've been waiting to feel you move me.

And I'm still fighting for the world to break these chains.
And I still pray when I look in your eyes.
You stare right back down into something beautiful.

Email

I sent my dad an email today, after not hearing from him in so long.
39 words.

I've tried hard through the years. And this is what I ended up with, 39 words. And it might be because forget doesn't come with forgive, as people believe.

I'm keeping some mistakes

I had a shirt I loved to wear, it read, in Spanish "I'm not perfect, just forgiven." And I guess I thought, for the longest time, that grace would justify my imperfections... but then, one day, that just seemed wrong to me. Grace? justifying me? It felt as I was taking it more as an excuse for my imperfections and I guess it got too complicated and so I just stopped thinking about it. That might have been a mistake, or maybe not. Truth is, I don't know. I don't know what I should do with those questions and so I stopped asking them at loud and started embracing palpable things and wanting to make those impalpable ones into something else..... and suddenly I was called a surrealist painter.

And truth is, I'm just trying to get it. And I never seem to even come close that knowledge I'm looking for... and just like I'm with words (you see, a little confused and random) I am with pictures, images, lines. Everything about me seems to be mixed up.

But then, there are times of clarity where things just seemed to fit. And then I'm happy, and so calm. Even when I'm a bag full of mistakes and regrets... because I regret so much. I regret not calling April that summer she was gone, I regret not hugging my dad goodbye, and not writing back, and not calling back, and I regret not saying what I feel most of the time. And I regret so many things I write in this blog of my confusions.... but then again, those are my mistakes, and sometimes... sometimes I am my mistakes. And so I'm keeping them, because they make my story along with happy times and smiles. And even when I don't know what I wanted to say when I started writing this, I feel so much better. As if embracing imperfections is somehow not as bad as it sounds.

always.

Mourning.... a tribute to Keren

Mourning

Today I mourn the end of an era...
of memories made,
of stories told,
of healing hearts,
of watery eyes.

Today I say goodbye
today I let go and open my arms
to the next treasured placed in my hand.
Today I'm taken away form your arms
Today I float in the air
waiting to be caught by the future.

Today I mourn you...
your contagious smile,
your challenging thoughts,
your caring heart,
and my love for you.

Love that will not disapear because you're gone.
Love that will grow...
trust that will be stronger.
And confidence that you're just paving the way.

Today I wipe my tears
I let go
I try to leave with you a last memory
a last laugh
a last tear
at last...

posted by Quotable_keb at 12:45 AM on 4.28.2006

this poem was written by Keren.
And is now a tribute to her.
Your legacy will live in the lives of those who loved you, and in those whose life you made a bit brighter and happier.
You're with God now.

Every wish hides a wish

I don't know if that's a saying, or it my friend Ryan made it up as a line
of one of his poems, or if it is one of those invisible truths that's known
by everyone but only understood by some. Or maybe it is just a saying that
someone made up in hope to understand her fears.

What's the wish behind each fear? Is someone who's afraid of dying just
wishing to be eternal, to remain in the life of her loved ones forever, to
live and be able to feel the breeze of cool night and the pain in the legs
of the person who has walked for too long? What are we wishing for, when we
fear death? What are we wishing for?

I sit here, confused about things, because sometimes I my thoughts can't
reach beyond this ceiling. And I wonder if there's a cure for such
impediment. And if maybe love is the answer. Which sounds like such cliché,
but then... who knows, maybe, in reality is just true.

Today, I'm afraid of crying.
And I don't know what I'm wishing for.
A tribute and respects are in order for a life.

A dream made me wake up sad today

Caminé en los pasillos de la iglesia que me vió crecer. Y vi la puerta negra del lado donde el piano estaba. Y vi los microfonos que se usaban y la tarima. Y me dio miedo ver a la gente directamente a los ojos, porque no me conocian. Y no me dejaban estacionar mi carro en frente de la iglesia, porque no tenia mucho dinero o una familia de nombre. Y vi a mi mami diciendo algo que movio mi alma, algo que ya se me olvidó, pero que todavia me hace sentir triste.

Que será que me asusta tanto volver a donde fui feliz por tanto tiempo? Donde tengo tantas memorias de niña? Por qué habre visto el nombre de la iglesia en el mural cambiado... con una letra mediocre, y sentí ganas de rehacer ese diseño? Por qué me habra entristesido ese sueño, tanto que desperté sintiendome fuera de lugar?

Vi las cortinas que bailaban con la brisa que entraba por las ventanas de aquella iglesia donde descubri mi llamado al servicio, pero no senti la paz que solia sentir al cerrar los ojos y dejar aquella brisa tocarme como si fuera el mismo susurro de Dios.