Cuentos para Kati XI

We cheer upon your arrival and of that who opens the door for you, for your mother, the sacred vessel carrying you for 22 moons, feeding you with love and illusions. We cheer upon your arrival, upon the first time you open your eyes, surrounding the door with our protection, trumpeting at your triumph, at her triumph, at the end and the beginning.

The young mother questioned father's motives, his inspiration, his reasons to act in such a way, his reasons to force himself on her. The young mother questioned the lack of love, the violence and the fear of seeing father's face on that she might feel obliged to love, trapped in confusion, between resentment and love, force to protect the eternity of such an act, force the love of your life were to become as his father.

The young mother questioned the beauty of the one growing inside her, the health and the creature's future, in a world consumed in sadness, in a world possessed by violence, in a world where ivory taken with hate, leads to beautiful music, corrupted by its origins, by transcending humanity's ears from its violent oblivion. The young mother questioned the creature's future in a world poaching for tusks, in a world empty at compassion, in a world choking at omission, in a world excited at fashion.

The young mother questioned her passing beauty, her expiring charm, wondering, gambling the feeling of desire coming from mates against a life of commitment, gambling her dreams in favor of those of an unborn creature. The young mother questioned herself, her capacity of giving blind love, uncompromising love, free love to a little dot, arguably alive, ready to shake her entire foundations. 

The young mothers feared, the young mothers questioned, the young mothers asked, asked the old mother, why bringing another creature to this world, to this world, as it is, as it seems to be, as it will probably keep being, violent and sad and at the price of losing everything?

The old mother answered, because of love, because love demands everything but asks for nothing, because love has won already, because love is quiet, because love is silence, because love is all and because life is love, there is no logic on it, there is no reason on it, there is nothing on it, nothing that can be thought, nothing that can be calculated, nothing that can be presumed, nothing that can be explained, love is love, love is the decision of love. 

We cheer upon your arrival and of that who opens the door for you, we cheer at the face of violence, we cheer at the fear of discomfort we cheer at the fear of losing all that you blindly believe you are, we cheer because life, because life as it is, as it has been, as it will be, whatever it is, whatever it was, whatever it will be, whatever, life comes only from love. 

Cuentos para Kati X

The little bird found himself caught in the mirror, attempting to see his whole face, but his eyes are not made to look ahead, his eyes are not made to see straight, his eyes are not made to give themselves a name, his eyes are made to have faith.

As the flock drank water and searched for provisions, the little bird kept trying to see his face, though he could only see half of it, but with plenty of time, you can end up believing you are one, with plenty of time, you can end up believing you are alone. With plenty of time, you can end up believing you are two, the left and the right, the bad and the good one.

He did not hear the call, the dots aiming at joining, the whistling wind and the choreography starting. Absorbed and aching to define himself, he thought of going deep into the water, hoping to have mirrors at every possible angle and at the same time, but his eyes are not made to see straight, his eyes are made to have faith.

Confused, desperate and without air, he remembered all those days, flying, feeling the wind, looking only at those by his side, following and leading the dance, without himself, without a name, just flowing with faith. He remembered the gentle touch of wings and the sweet warmness of feeling part of something greater than himself, greater than any of them.

As the black became deeper, the mirrors melted in the peaceful waves, same as in the air, when he became one with his friends, with his mates, with the wind and the air. When his friend pulled him from the water, the tears in his eyes, reminded him all those days, when he had faith in those around, when he didn't worry about himself, when he didn't need to define himself. 

By the shore of the lake, the little bird saw the flock waiting for him, waiting for one of them and realized that his eyes were not made to see straight, but to have faith in those around. Every dot might need to define itself, maybe many times, but the flock is always there to remind us that we are one, even if we seem as many.

Cuentos para Kati IX

I look into your eyes and I wonder, what do you see in mine, do you see mine?  I am afraid, I do not understand, I have to survive, but I am slow to anger, as we all are, those that came from the original mind.  

I am afraid, I do not understand, why do you hurt me? you do not look at my eyes, you are blind by the roar of the crowd, by the gold in your dress, by the edge of your sword, by the speed of your arm. 

I am afraid, I do not understand, why do you make me run? Why do you make me forget, in the red reflecting in my eyes, that you are playing with me, that your sword will not stop, until the red is clearly by my sight?

I am afraid, I do not understand, why don’t you press hard? end my fear, end my life. I am afraid, I do not understand, why do they cheer at a crime? 

I am excited, I do not understand, why do you run? why don’t you stop? Are you blind? The red will not hurt you. I am excited, I do not understand, don’t you know what you are? why don’t you aim at my heart? 

I am excited, I do not understand, such a moment, I looked into your eyes, are you afraid? Do you want to protect your life? Why are you slow to anger, has the original mind accepted your scars?

I am afraid, I do not understand, you have looked into my eyes, why don’t you stop this crime? And you, cheering with a smile, have you looked into my eyes?

I am afraid, I do not understand, what am I doing? I am afraid, I do not understand, I now see your eyes, are they really different from mine? 

I am afraid, I do not understand, why compassion did not stand, on such other times, when my blade crossed those hearts? 

I am not afraid, I do understand, you are a brother of mine, I can’t look into nobody’s eyes, without knowing that I come also from the original mind. 

Cuentos para Kati VIII

I grew up with spines but I was told that my great-grandparents did not have them, they grew up in a different place, a fertile place filled with green and blue, a place filled with beauty, a non-denying place, a place where all dreams come truth, a place where everybody treat them with care. They did not need spines; they did not need to protect themselves. The place I live, is little on mercy, everybody has left, they could not stand the heat, the pressure, they could not stand the scarcity. 

I grew up with spines, so I could survive, I have to hide that, that that makes me live, that, that makes me alive. I did not leave the scarcity behind, I decided to stay and live with my spines.

The first time I saw her, I thought she was the most beautiful, the sweetest, she has the most beautiful spines. I could not avoid to talk to her, to compliment her, to feel her close, but she does not listen, she sees beyond my words, thinking that I have other intentions. It is her spines I know, she wants to protect that, that that makes her live, that, that makes her alive. 

As days pass, I can see her spines fading away, I can see her falling to the spell of love and the touch of weak knees, of a sweet kiss, of a passing eternal hug. 

As days pass, I can see the falling of her spines and that, that that makes her alive falling from herself, as it does from the sky. Am I ready to see her pass? Am I ready myself to pass? 

I grew up with spines so I could survive, I can see her passing, but can I leave my spines behind? Am I ready to pass? She looks at me and tells me, I want you to live, I want you to keep your spines so you can survive. I want you to live a long life. 

Am I going to pass? Not today or tonight, but tomorrow? Or the day after, or the day after? I am going to pass and so will my spines, but that, that that makes me alive is going to survive because I will leave my spines behind so we can hug with nothing in between, other than that, that that makes us alive. 

Cuentos para Kati VII

The mare was born in a common place, one without intrigue and without apparent exceptional sight, those peaceful lands, often desired by the tired, always discouraged by the eager. She never met her parents and nobody explained her where were they, if they left or they fled, if they exist or not. She was one of a kind, like no other mare, like no other stallion, but just the same as any of them, just the same as any of us, wishing for love, dreaming of love, melting at love. 

She felt lonely all her life, wishing to be the same, exactly the same, without "that", that making her look different, making her look unusual, that unavoidable and unmistakable truth, that, that you cannot ignore, that you cannot pretend, that, that dissolves every doubt. But she did not see it, she did not hear it, she did not feel it, the words of comfort, the words of wisdom, she did not hear her voice, her own voice, the inner voice who knows it all.

She grew up wishing, wishing to be accepted, to be embraced. Is it that hard? It is that hard to believe that the only truth is in perfection, in absolute undeniable love? She grew up wishing, wishing to be logical, to be normal. But nobody managed to look at her, nobody managed to accept her, as she is, as she stands, as she sees, clear and direct, pointing at you, but never judging you, loving you even if you do not love her back, always, eternal, unchanging, uncompromising and victorious.

That rainy day, she felt lonelier than ever, all her mates moved away, one by one disappeared, left the lands of the living, so as their children and the children of their children, one after the other. She walked her lands and the ones aside and the ones far beyond and saw time passed by, like drops falling into a broken cup, never changing herself, never getting old as all their pale mates faded away.

As she walked under the rain, a little drop touched the tip of her head, the tip of her unusual head and as it slid through her face and felt to the ground, she saw her reflection in the clear pond. As she stared in herself, she understood why everybody ignored her, why everybody couldn’t reflect on her, she understood her real self, every lie find itself trapped eventually, nothing untruthful can last forever, only the truth will live eternally and the only truth is love, love incapable of stopping, love that cannot fade, love pointing at you, telling you that you are loved, that you are not judged and that there is nothing you can do or don’t that would make love stop loving you.

Aside her reflection, she heard the little voice in the last drop, the last drop telling her, you are not alone, you dear truth, you dear love, you dear unicorn, because I will always walk with you, I will always stay by you, with you, on you, outside and inside you, oh dear Love. The great mare never walked alone again, magic is her companion, magic always walks by her hand, because the only real magic is in the Truth, the only real magic is love. 

Cuentos para Kati VI

Everything looks the same. It is a rainy day, one when light has chosen to be shy, I feel the cold breeze and the drops touching my steel body and my slippery wheels. The little girl is running, she seems agitated, the rain melted her makeup and her smile is absent today.

Everything looks the same. The couple walk slowly, with confidence, holding hands, smiling at each other. The world is absent to them, their love pervades everything. She smiles while he touches her hair. His passion finds confusion its never ending companionship.

Everything looks the same. The old man arrived early. I can see him from afar, silent, careful, peacefully waiting, patiently observing. Only my scream defies his otherwise unconscious  attention.

Everything looks the same. The path I follow never gets disturbed, sometimes delayed but I always see the little girl, the lovers and the old man, sometimes in different places, or different moments. Sometimes she doesn't look the same, sometimes she is smiling, sometimes he is not, sometimes age is not patient, sometimes love is not there. But it looks the same, just not the same passengers, even when they are the same.

Everything looks the same, is it not? I have asked other trains, isn't there always a little girl, isn't there  always an old man? Does not their warm embracing melt your cold chairs? We do recall the little girl, we do recall their hugging shade, we do recall his patient stare. Are we the same train then? 

Everything looks the same, but for them is never the same, for them every day they changed themselves, but for us it is always the same, if you move enough, everyday, there is always a running girl, there is always a patient man and of course love is everywhere.