IF: E is for....
The word(s) of the week for Illustration Friday is E. Besides things like Emily the Enchanting, Elegant Emily, etc, I decided to go with Expecting...well, not in the usually sense! In this case, it's expecting a treat:
I'm glad to have some time to post. Been rather busy and rushing around. The weather makes me slow down so this is nice. In fact, I was pleased to see that the little duck pond that is on my route to tutoring had a few white ducks. So nice to see.
It's funny I was just typing along here and a memory came to me. I remember I was talking to the mom of a friend who just past away. We were talking about ducks. And I just remembered that I won't be seeing him again. Strange how for a moment you can feel so sad.
A poem comes to mind...one a friend of mine translated in an English class many years ago. It's called La Muerta (The Dead Woman) by Pablo Neruda.
Si de pronto no existes,
si de pronto no vives,
yo seguiré viviendo.
No me atrevo,
no me atrevo a escribirlo,
si te mueres.
Yo seguiré viviendo.
Porque donde no tiene voz un hombre
allí, mi voz.
Donde los negros sean apaleados,
yo no puedo estar muerto.
Cuando entren en la cárcel mis hermanos
entraré yo con ellos.
Cuando la victoria,
no mi victoria,
sino la gran Victoria llegue,
aunque esté mudo debo hablar:
yo la veré llegar aunque esté ciego.
Si tú no vives,
si tú, querida, amor mío, si tú
te has muerto,
todas las hojas caerán en mi pecho,
lloverá sobre mi alma noche y día,
la nieve quemará mi corazón,
andaré con frío y fuego y muerte y nieve,
mis pies querrán marchar hacia donde tú duermes, pero seguiré vivo,
porque tú me quisiste sobre todas las cosas indomable,
y, amor, porque tú sabes que soy no sólo un hombre
sino todos los hombres.
If suddenly you do not exist,
if suddenly you no longer live,
I shall live on.
I do not dare,
I do not dare to write it,
if you die.
I shall live on.
For where a man has no voice,
there, my voice.
Where blacks are beaten,
I cannot be dead.
When my brothers go to prison
I shall go with them.
not my victory,
but the great victory comes,
even though I am mute I must speak;
I shall see it come even
though I am blind.
No, forgive me.
If you no longer live,
if you, beloved, my love,
if you have died,
all the leaves will fall in my breast,
it will rain on my soul night and day,
the snow will burn my heart,
I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow,
my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but
I shall stay alive,
because above all things
you wanted me indomitable,
and, my love, because you know that I am not only a man
but all mankind.
I wasn't sure if I felt like this poem would capture my feelings accurately. Or that it would have a different meaning. But as I read this poem in depth (I only remember excerpts of it from the translation and from one of my favorite movies "Truly, Madly, Deeply") I realize how very true it is. We must give voice in the silence and to those who are in need and with that the memory of the dead will not be in vain or forgotten.
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