El Santo de Venus

Tu susurro escondido en el viento calma los corazones que esperaban milagros que no se cumplieron. Mandaste ángeles a consolarnos, pero no tienen alas ni se parecen a nosotros. Son troncos de árboles con las ramas abiertas, esperando que nos acerquemos a meter entre sus ranuras las oraciones que no llegan hasta el cielo por el ruido de los carros.

Diario: the shape of fear

The other day I was thinking: "What is the one thing that has defined me throughout the years, since I was little?" It didn’t take long to answer. It’s my ability to stand up against fear and swim toward it, even while being terrified of every possibility.

One day

One day, my vision will blank, and my soul will fly away. Inevitable is that day, But that day is not today.