you know when bad things happen how everyone is quick to jump forth with a quip or cliché to “comfort” you? some of it is genuinely good-natured, but hollow words cannot fill the empty space in your soul. if your spirit has been crushed by tragedy, a witty saying isn’t going to raise it up again. more often than not, it’s irritating as hell. well meaning or not, it makes your feelings seem trite and generic. it adds onto the existing hurt, extrapolates what’s already there and makes everything worse.
simple words cannot take pain away.
and in short: time does not heal all wounds.
hell, i figured that one out years ago. time is an abstract concept…it helps us keep some semblance of order and sanity about ourselves. it is a construct with only as little or as much meaning as you give it. in reality, time is nothing.
time passes and that’s about all.
and with each passing moment, it hurts in gradually increasing amounts. every second that goes by is a second where no matter how much i wish i could, i cannot just pick up the phone and call you. just one more second adding up the hours since i was able to hear your voice; the days since i could talk to you. all of it stretching into weeks since i’ve seen you. that’s more than i can bear. and yet, time keeps going on.
time mocks you, defies your heartache with it’s very existence (however abstract or not).
every instant that tick-tocks by is another memory gradually fading away; grains of sand etched with your name on them, slipping through my fingers…every passing day it gets harder and harder to hold on. time is an enemy trying to wrench you from my heart and mind. it casts even the most treasured of moments in a hazy fog, dulling the senses of them.
it it hurts my heart.
because no one can conquer time. but i cannot bear to lose you like this…
Eras la boina gris y el corazón en calma.
En tus ojos peleaban las llamas del crepúsculo.
Y las hojas caÃan en el agua de tu alma.
Apegada a mis brazos como una enredadera,
las hojas recogÃan tu voz lenta y en calma.
Hoguera de estupor en que mi sed ardÃa.
Dulce jacinto azul torcido sobre mi alma.
Siento viajar tus ojos y es distante el otoño:
boina gris, voz de pájaro y corazón de casa
hacia donde emigraban mis profundos anhelos
y caÃan mis besos alegres como brasas.
Cielo desde un navÃo. Campo desde los cerros.
Tu recuerdo es de luz, de humo, de estanque en calma.
Más allá de tus ojos ardÃan los crepúsculos.
Hojas secas de otoño giraban en tu alma.
