La niña camina, parece recorrer siempre la misma ruta, se tropieza con las mismas salientes, cae y se levanta apresurada, pendiente de que nadie la vea. Llora por los rincones esperando el consuelo de quienes, según ella, deberían secarle las lágrimas, abrazarla, decirle que está y estará bien, con frecuencia se equivoca y piensa que son los otros, los que deben aplanar el camino para que ella no vuelva a caer, entonces se apresura a acomodar sus lentes, es ella la que debe ver.
Esa niña ha perdido buena cantidad de dientes, tiene la piel ajada y gruesos mechones con canas le caen en la cara. Trata de adivinar cuánto faltará de ese sendero lleno de árboles, por donde a veces corretean animales y revolotean inmensas aves, que no deberían volar porque desordenan el orden creado. Ella sigue aprendiendo.
«Compasión para mí», grita, pero la voz se ha vuelto tan débil, que solo se escuchan sus murmullos, no importa, dentro de ella sí se oye nítidamente. Ella dejó de esperar la comprensión y el respeto de los demás, que la juzgan, porque es lo único que saben hacer: por su peso, «no comas esto, ni lo otro»; por su manera de hablar: «no digas esto, ni lo otro»; por sus amores: «no ames, todos son iguales»; por sus decisiones: te dije que no votarás, eres esto y lo otro, compra aquí, vístete así», por esto y por lo otro, pero ella es dueña de su vida y su destino.
A veces, en sus descuidos habituales se le ha caído el corazón, ella lo agarra rápido, no vaya a ser que alguien lo pise, lo limpia con cuidado, y se lo vuelve a colocar, sonríe y se dice para sus adentros: «no pasa nada», «ya me he perdonado». Su corazón y ella se sonríen cómplices, ambos saben que se tienen, son los dueños del amor.
La sociedad es arena movediza, los hermanos se pelean por el cobertizo donde todos han vivido, todo lo quieren para sí, gente que no se sabe de donde salió, pero dicen ser familia y allegados de los ancestros, despegan tejas para llevárselas, sin pedir permiso. Ella vuelve a perdonar para salvarse. No está hecha con la misma materia. Toma distancia. Se siente tan bien poder alejarse de lo que no aporta nada en el itinerario de viaje.
Debió irse antes, cuando la blancura de la luna empezó a pintar hilos en su cabellera, pero su amor se salía del pecho y sobraba para cuidar a los demás. Creía que había nacido para eso. Ahora se conoce dueña del tiempo, aprendió a estirar sus brazos para rodearse a sí misma con su amor sempiterno. El amor propio no quema.
Su niña interior la mira con sus ojos de siempre, ávidos de historia, ella le repite que todo está bien. Amarse a sí misma ha sido su principal conquista, cada día nace de nuevo, las marcas de los años no le repiten nada viejo, porque lo perdonado está sanado.
Amar lo verdadero, dejar lo material, aprender a perdonar y perdonarse con compasión, sin juzgarse, cuidar su corazón como nido de amor, atender al niño interior y seguir adelante: todo estará bien.
Este texto ha surgido motivado a la lectura de la iniciativa de 
Aquí el link
Mi contenido es original.
He utilizado el traductor de Google.
Imágenes elaboradas en SeeArt.AI
English Version
The girl walks, she seems to always follow the same route, she trips over the same ledges, she falls and gets up quickly, waiting for no one to see her. She cries in the corners waiting for the comfort of those who, according to her, should dry her tears, hug her, tell her that she is and will be fine, she is often wrong and thinks that it is the others who should smooth the path so that she does not fall again, so she hurries to adjust her glasses, it is she who must see.
That girl has lost a good number of teeth, her skin is wrinkled and thick locks of gray hair fall on her face. She tries to guess how much is left of that path full of trees, where sometimes animals run around and huge birds flutter, which should not fly because they disrupt the created order. She continues learning.
“Pity for me,” she cries, but her voice has become so weak that only her murmurs can be heard. It doesn’t matter, inside her, she can hear it clearly. She stopped expecting the understanding and respect of others, who judge her because it’s the only thing they know how to do: for her weight, “don’t eat this, or that”; for her way of speaking: “don’t say this, or that”; for her loves: “don’t love, they’re all the same”; for her decisions: I told you not to vote, you’re this and that, shop here, dress like this,” for this and that, but she is the owner of her life and her destiny.
Sometimes, in her habitual carelessness, her heart has fallen, she grabs it quickly, so that someone doesn’t step on it, she cleans it carefully, and puts it back, she smiles and says to herself: “it’s okay,” “I’ve forgiven myself.” Her heart and her smile at each other, knowing that they have each other, they are the owners of love.
Society is quicksand, brothers fight over the shed where everyone has lived, they want everything for themselves, people who no one knows where they came from, but they say they are family and close to the ancestors, they peel off tiles to take them away, without asking permission. She forgives again to save herself. She is not made of the same material. She takes distance. It feels so good to be able to get away from what doesn't contribute anything to the travel itinerary.
She should have left earlier, when the whiteness of the moon began to paint threads in her hair, but her love came out of her chest and was more than enough to take care of others. She believed she was born for that. Now she knows she is the owner of time, she learned to stretch out her arms to surround herself with her everlasting love. Self-love doesn't burn.
Her inner child looks at her with her usual eyes, eager for history, she repeats to her that everything is fine. Loving herself has been her main conquest, every day she is born again, the marks of the years do not repeat anything old, because what has been forgiven is healed.
Love what is true, leave behind material things, learn to forgive and forgive yourself with compassion, without judging yourself, take care of your heart as a nest of love, attend to the inner child and move forward: everything will be fine.
This text was motivated by reading the initiative of
Here is the link
My content is original.
I used Google translator.
The girl walks, she seems to always follow the same route, she trips over the same ledges, she falls and gets up quickly, waiting for no one to see her. She cries in the corners waiting for the comfort of those who, according to her, should dry her tears, hug her, tell her that she is and will be fine, she is often wrong and thinks that it is the others who should smooth the path so that she does not fall again, so she hurries to adjust her glasses, it is she who must see.
That girl has lost a good number of teeth, her skin is wrinkled and thick locks of gray hair fall on her face. She tries to guess how much is left of that path full of trees, where sometimes animals run around and huge birds flutter, which should not fly because they disrupt the created order. She continues learning.
“Pity for me,” she cries, but her voice has become so weak that only her murmurs can be heard. It doesn’t matter, inside her, she can hear it clearly. She stopped expecting the understanding and respect of others, who judge her because it’s the only thing they know how to do: for her weight, “don’t eat this, or that”; for her way of speaking: “don’t say this, or that”; for her loves: “don’t love, they’re all the same”; for her decisions: I told you not to vote, you’re this and that, shop here, dress like this,” for this and that, but she is the owner of her life and her destiny.
Sometimes, in her habitual carelessness, her heart has fallen, she grabs it quickly, so that someone doesn’t step on it, she cleans it carefully, and puts it back, she smiles and says to herself: “it’s okay,” “I’ve forgiven myself.” Her heart and her smile at each other, knowing that they have each other, they are the owners of love.
Society is quicksand, brothers fight over the shed where everyone has lived, they want everything for themselves, people who no one knows where they came from, but they say they are family and close to the ancestors, they peel off tiles to take them away, without asking permission. She forgives again to save herself. She is not made of the same material. She takes distance. It feels so good to be able to get away from what doesn't contribute anything to the travel itinerary.
She should have left earlier, when the whiteness of the moon began to paint threads in her hair, but her love came out of her chest and was more than enough to take care of others. She believed she was born for that. Now she knows she is the owner of time, she learned to stretch out her arms to surround herself with her everlasting love. Self-love doesn't burn.
Her inner child looks at her with her usual eyes, eager for history, she repeats to her that everything is fine. Loving herself has been her main conquest, every day she is born again, the marks of the years do not repeat anything old, because what has been forgiven is healed.
Love what is true, leave behind material things, learn to forgive and forgive yourself with compassion, without judging yourself, take care of your heart as a nest of love, attend to the inner child and move forward: everything will be fine.
This text was motivated by reading the initiative of
Here is the link
My content is original.
I used Google translator.
Imágenes SeeArt AI
