Today marks six months since the founding of Whatever Words
Here is something to mark that occasion
Reminiscences of My Revolutionary War
Through the jungles of my love
came cutting as the blade of a libertador
But it was a scythe.
What was sown that day (one year, yesterday)
was my rebirth
in a warzone.
Through the skies, I arrived
Through the nights, I have cried:
I have cried.
Yes, these reminiscences take me back
to where I should not want to go
– do not want to go
But, these reminiscences
I owe it to something, someone, somewhere
for I am still here.
It has taken a beating, my corazon de oro
and who would’ve thought it would be nice to know
that there is a tomorrow
For so long, such pain
For so long, I felt destined, certain
that I was to be forever maimed:
I had romanticised
And perhaps, behind these eyes
I will never be the same
But you did not deserve my name.
So much, it turns out,
can happen in a year
Yet in the grandest of schemes
it is but a flutter, and I would neither hesitate nor stutter
(as if my fortune was on those who’d bolted) to say
That I will not be the one to look back
After all and who would’ve thought
that mine would still be beating and
I would be here to write (of) another day.
But I am and that she could not take away.
It was six months ago I found a place devoid of greed
It was six months ago I found all those who may read
It was six months ago they read of how I bleed
And the colour it runs when it does:
You, dear reader, could be one of us
And know that there is always an arm to tend your wearied shoulder
The time, it matters –
like she, the libertador was, –
(these are my reminiscences and)
it is my pain which has made me
it is you, dear reader, who has saved me
for the sake of my family, who once named me
This has been a struggle but who is keeping score?
Do you ever wake up and feel glad to have been here before?