, ,

Paula Arbide 13










But you are also of the others,
of those who have selected you.
I belong to myself.
I am and feel
, you say.
And it is true, you are as you are
even if you change.
And you belong to yourself even if you become
woman or tree
who takes her mane to another wind
and its briefest branches
to a limitless land
that rests far away.
You are because you feel what you say
when you are breathless
like the hugs you give
and also – of course – demand.
It is not about that giving and getting
so repeated in other verses.
It is not about saying nor lying,
but being and feeling as you say.
And however, does not cry the day for the hell of it
nor laughs the light for disagreeing
and because dark is the heart of hearts
and burns the fire that breathes inside of you
when the others do not see your suffering
such as you laugh sometimes
feeling that everything is not lost.
You are or you are not and are
because you were beaten,
silence would say.
I am and come, you could say.
You were and come back, I say
when I see you naked
in so many clothes that hide
all but your eyes.
When you breathe in the distance
what you feel close
while you say,
I live and am alive
because I do not lie to myself anymore
And that sentence that none before you
could pronounce with that sweetness
that time immortalizes
who can not run away from himself
it is like asking for a hug
or giving one closer if possible.
One that may it seem far away
it is very deep inside.
Like that mane that was yours
and now becomes a faded colour.
Like those wrinkled eyes that shine
and that smell that is not the same
and those hands that grasped you
before your last fall
when breathing became hard
but you were forced to do it.
You see, you are of the others,
of those who have selected you.
But you are also what you feel
and you let the others see
like when they took that picture of you
which, despite the passing of the years,
is the one that depicts you best
in the face of so much failure:
sad and intensely
with weeping, with moans of silences
that were already forgotten
because tiredness can not overcome us
but the love that confronts us
to ourselves.
I belong to myself,
I am and feel
But you are also of the others,
of those who have selected you.
Of those who loved you
and love you, as much as of those
who will come to love you from far away too
when you are breathless
and feel what you say.

© Kepa Murua, “Pero también eres de los demás”, 2013.
© Fotografía: Paula Arbide, 2013.
© Traducción: Iñigo Garro & Gorka Biggi.