Mamá
Mamá,
I don’t want to be like you
I don’t want to carry chains
that restrain my arms
from the sacred flight
I don’t want my eyes
to get accustomed to the night
and not see the light
crossing the delicate leaves
of the apricot tree
Mamá,
I don’t want to bleed my own body
I want it to burst alive
like sunflowers in field
striving for a sunbeam
I don’t want my voice
to get lost amidst the wind
I want it to resonate fearless
like the savage fire
that crackles and extends
Mamá,
I don’t want to evade my solitude
I want to embrace and embellish it
like the stars that kindle
the algid dusk
I don’t want to bear your cross
that weighs on the back
bruising the soul
muddling the mind
losing the essence
Mamá,
I don’t want the heart
to get tired of throbbing
I don’t want the spirit to discourage
even if the path is not the waited