I die every day with the cross that I carry inside, and it is the greatest stupidity that I commit.

[author title=”Ramina Herrera Arteaga” image=”https://sindhcourier.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/Ramina-Herrera-Arteaga-Peru-Sindh-Courier.jpg”]Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded many prestigious recognition for her writing. [/author]

 

Existential Sunset

Dusk,

And near the river

I breathe in its noisy flow,

Little water,

But enough to scream its mysteries

To cast light shines straight to the heart

To heal human confusions

Silly confusions that consume the soul

As if that solves

The dilemma that obstructs your consciousness!

 

I waste so much time thinking

The way how to solve

I die every day with the cross that I carry inside

And it is the greatest stupidity that I commit,

Well, I can do nothing

Without the blessing of the Architect,

I want to internalize

The Release and Trust lifestyle

Since in his grace and goodness

Nothing bad can happen to me,

So they will cast bitter spells

Trying to break my steps

From your hand my Lord

I want to walk

Listening inside

The true message of your love…

***

Dead Fingers

My fingers have died

What do I do without them I wonder?

Now what I want to write

On new horizons to discover

My perspective change is arranged the other way around.

 

Upside down because I’m in front of thousands of mirrors

That cover my dimensions and their reflections

Its reflections bare my soul, my thoughts,

That loose from bones wish for new beginnings

What do I do now that I have no fingers?

***

Like the Mouth of the Dead

A cold and gloomy afternoon

August

August

Cloudy, silent,

Like a dead man’s mouth

Who comes to see me

Bringing adages,

Speeches of ancient beings

Sylphs, undines

Or necromancers

That fell on my conscience

To finally wake up!

 

You arrive,

You arrive

And bristle my skin

My hair

Which wild horse

In the middle of this trail

You shake my brain

With your silent voice

But I understand

How do you understand

The earth

That the rain peeks out!

_________________