With the tide

While I look at the sea, I watch the waves take a year of memories. The months are written in the sand, and taking its time, the sea erases them, leaving space for the next numbers of the calendar.

January is written with a fast and disorganized hand. It marks the beginning of lost months, confused between the hear and mind, wanting and doing, the past and the present. The waves take January with out regret.

February is more legible, showing routine, icy snow, and friendship bonds. But this month leaves with sadness, also showing lost wishes and fallen opportunities.

March is written with elegance, knowing that it was important in leaving a mark in the future forever.  Hopes made March stand next to the sand, but closed doors make the waves take March to the bottom of the ocean.

April can be seen in two languages, showing the desperation of wanting to know which direction to take next to my life. Spanish and English confuse, and make the waves move like the paths in front of me did on those long days.

May is written in brunette and gold. Its letters don't want to be erased from the sand, due to the best moments of the year being held in them . May tells the tales of sunsets in the blue lake, goals that were reached, and long lasting friendship.

June shines. Next to June are written an expected and nostalgic ending, and a beginning with hearts and a persistent love.

July is written next to music letters, for being sung, shortly but with passion. The waves erase July while singing.

The letters of August are delicate, showing adventures decorated with colors. This month talks about the treasures of life: coffees in strange cities, sounds of the wind when traveling, walking in calm and colorful streets, the sweetness of a love of opposites, the beginning of a new chapter, and the first step as an adult.

Once the waves have taken August, September, October and November are seen together. These months were impressed by the fast pace of weeks, and the chaos of an organized life. They went up and down, they smiled, they learned, they fell in love, they loved, they danced, they sang, they ran. They waves run with them,

December can be seen written perfectly, determined to end the year with permanent memories and future illusions. December vibrates next to the sea, knowing that what it lived will never be forgotten. The waves hesitate before erasing it, marking the end of the twelve months that changed the rhythm of the waves.

The year has run like the water, it has gone up and down like the tide, it has seen sunrises and sunsets with salt and sweet water. My year has moved, it has made me live with cold feet and hot heart.

We

We weren't Romeo and Juliet, we weren't star-crossed lovers who were meant to die side by side. We weren't soul mates. We were puzzle pieces, put together by the hand of the wind and water. We were happy, young, in love.

His hands took mine to always make me feel protected. I showed him the light of the summer, and he
showed me the beauty of the snow. I made him laugh to make him feel heard. We tumbled into each other so that neither of us fell. We laughed about the ignorance around us, and embraced our rebellious teenage years.

We walked along the lake-shore into life without any idea that the winds were around the corner. We traveled through the streets of the dark city without knowing that there were ghosts hidden in the allies.

But when the clock hit 4 in the morning we were lost within the woods, we had gone so far of our paths that the beauty of the trees was lost, and the butterflies had become spiders. We had trusted our eyes to lead us, but we were blind by the heat of the moment.

We weren't Romeo and Juliet, but we had fallen deep in love like them, for the love to break us in the end.

Pacific airs

Between the clouds I feel big. Between the blue sky and the power of the wind I can fly to my destiny. I move between the heights and observe how little problems seem for a far, and how grandiose it is to keep going every time the sun comes up. My heart beats strongly in my chest when I see the palm tress growing and the sea getting closer.

With my hair loose, a smile on my face, and a book in my hands I get to the farthest shoreline, that which very few travel to. In that shoreline, breathing the salt water smell, I find myself again. Even though, I have been lost in the paths of the sand, I have discovered precious rocks, broken shells that no one wants but that don't cut if touched carefully, and little goals that have helped me reach the sea. The waves roar and splash, but they don't scare me. On the contrary, I enjoy each drop that brushes; each of them gives me strength to face the next storm, it passes onto me the happiness of knowing what time is, that vague concept that directs everything and gives nothing for granted.

I promise not to freeze

The words choke in my mouth. The screams of impotence freeze on my lips. My fingers can’t feel, they’re cold and irritated for not having a coin to give or a good to acclaim.

I see my reflection in the train’s rails and the injustice in the carriage. A carriage that is home to some and warmth to others. I hear the out of tune guitar between the footsteps, begging a gesture that will promise it that tomorrow will be better, but the gesture never comes.

I look around and my eyes aren't capable of comprehending how the most prized possession of the man in the corner is his shoes and of the man in the cafeteria is his new phone. My heart breaks when it hears the sound of assumptions; those who take shelter between the wall and the concrete are despicable and got there by their own judgment. Lie, I scream.

When the ice of the wind has soaked my body, I break and cry for those who live without living, for those damaged smiles due to society’s rules and for those newspapers that are pillows. My tears promise that those newspapers and those books in the back of the library will someday proclaim justice, they will be the beginning of the way home for the desolated and the flower that shines in the vase of their four walls. Because everyone deserves four walls.