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3 cartas y el mismo cuento

By Entrecorchetes All Rights Reserved ©

Other / Poetry

Carta a mi abuelo

Carta a mi abuelo 

Abuelo, o siendo menos cínico, papi, gracias por ser ese hombre que en esta fingida carta es todos los hombres, y como ellos, tú, sensible, sabio y silente alimentas con extraño sosiego el valor de hacer mía la palabra.

En el mundo de las narraciones extraordinarias, te miro y observo y al tiempo de los recuerdos, tu lento parpadear es un movimiento idéntico al mío. Casi tan lento que puedo preverle, con fantástica fascinación, verte habitar el tiempo.

Y en esa frontera de pensamientos, nuestros sueños y valores se hicieron uno con la curiosidad.

Aquella que se vuelca sobre el sentir de la humanidad, y los hombres, que como tú y yo, pertenece a todos los hombres, que sin sospecha alguna intercambian miradas en las extrañas caminatas a ese lugar que llamamos casa.

O país.

Allí papi, es que te invito a ser tu espejo, a que recorras conmigo las calles de este extraño país, donde seres como tú y yo habitaron, y que juzgados por su propia manera de parpadear, fueron asesinados, golpeados, demacrados, ignorados, arrojados, enterrados, desaparecidos, olvidados, desgarrados, torturados, quemados, descuartizados, electrocutados, señalados, apartados, amputados, desarticulados.

Ellos Seres,

Ellos Fueron.

Ellos anduvieron por las mismas calles, buscando sus mismos hogares como tú y como yo que sin ser nostroxs, fueron y son parte de nosotrxs.

Ellos que fueron derrotados, nos vuelven lucha.

Por eso en esta carta te imagino viendo la vida, y en el acto de verte mirarla de manera engañosa, confío en que cada hombre, tiene al menos, unos segundos para derramar una sensible lágrima, tibia y humana, y saberse humano y tibio y lagrima.

En la distancia del tiempo tu enorme piel, fue el primero de los espejos. Allí el estómago era una siembra, el bigote un cuento, los jugos gástricos centenares de almas, y en esa imaginativa realidad, habitaba también un mounstro capaz de la violencia, de locura y dolor.

Al amarte abuelo, padre, amigo

Al odiarte, mounstro y pesadilla.

A través de los ojos del tiempo, puedo verte como antes, como un niño.

Uno que habla los idiomas del cuerpo con su abuelo, que es todos los abuelos


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