The american writer Martha Little. Granada 2014
Matug
Aborawi is an old friend and mentor of mine, of whom I have great admiration
and respect. For me, Matug is a true artist, the way Picasso or Hemingway were
true artists: they live and bleed their art. He taught me to create from my
heart. There is no greater gift you can give a soul. Matug's work bleeds and
sings and cries its existence. There is no boundary between him and his work. He has that and more to give.
The sun is setting over my tired belly
My mother
is this ravaged parched earth
My belly is
empty and the sun looks like a balloon
Daddy's
arms flapping small while my mother sings
The waves
are taking our men away
The waves
are taking our souls away
I go to the
edge of the churning water
It brings
shells and pearls and bodies
Sometimes
there is something I need
Like a
piece of string or once I found a wedding ring
But now
it's taking our songs away
My belly is
tired and the waves are taking them away
"What's
on the other side?"
"Hush
baby that's our hope where the sun goes down"
"Why
is it taking my papa?"
"Hush
child your papa rides the waves of our hope"
Her song is
quiet now and I heard her cry
Then a low
wail and I shivered into her body
I want to
run to the waves to say goodbye
But my
belly is tired and my mother is this red earth.
Poem by;
Martha Little, USA Poet, resident in Granada Spain
El sol descansa sobre mi
fatigado vientre
Mi madre es esta desolada
y reseca tierra
Mi vientre está vacío y
el sol semeja un globo
Mientras, mi padre
levemente boga y mi madre canta
Las olas alejan a
nuestros hombres
Las olas se llevan nuestras
almas
Camino hasta el borde del
agua turbulenta
Donde conchas, perlas y
cuerpos emergen
A veces, encuentro algo
que necesito Como cordeles, incluso un anillo de boda
Pero ahora lanza nuestras
canciones lejos
Mi vientre desfallece, y
las olas les lanzan lejos
“¿Qué hay en la otra
orilla?”
“Calla niño, nuestra
esperanza se encuentra por donde el sol se pone"
"¿Por qué se lleva a
mi papá?"
"Calla, niño, tu
papá monta las olas de nuestra esperanza"
Su canción se relajó, y
escuché su quejido
Entonces un gemido
emergió, y temblé en su cuerpo
Quiero correr hasta las
olas para decir adiós
Pero mi vientre
desfallece, y mi madre es esta tierra roja.
Martha Lettle; Poetisa
norte american, residente en Granada,España.
