Tulia Gonzalez Posts

January 17 / Poetry

Unbearable will to start and end As if I could ever reach that feeling of getting done As if I could ever escape the feeling of missing something Did I forget to close the door? Did I forget to turn off the lights? Or the stove? Rolling waves, years that go by, wishing we could escape from their passing by But the vapour of the clouds always comes back to the forms of the earth, and you cry as if they could cry wishing to stay, wishing to escape from the cycle of life. And the clocks are rolling in…

July 11 / Life

Are you sailing back or flying? The fact that this question can even be made, it means that there are options. -Flying, this time I’m flying. I bought an airplane ticket that will take me back to Mexico in thirty something hours by plane, but the journey to come here took me almost a year on a sailboat. The world can be a bizarre place. Yesterday I dreamt that I finally left the island, that L was taking me to the airport, that my passport was expired, and I didn’t know if Mexico would recognize me. I’ve changed so much.…

June 19 / Diary

We all have those little parts of ourselves that we like to hide. It may be a middle name, the high school Prom photo, or that you failed the fifth grade. Margarita didn’t like me probably because is diminutive, and I wanted to be related with something strong, to have bigger hands to hold stronger, to be more “real”. Now I don’t care about diminutives, now I don’t wish that anymore. I see that is not the size of the hands, but its determination. Why do we need to be taken so seriously? Perhaps, deep down we want to be…

January 31 / Poetry
We wash out our face in a waterfall
thinking that we’ll be other
who wakes up next morning

But we are all the same

December 30 / Poetry
Splashing waves crash in the port while tourists on waterproof jackets are passing.
In the distance, cars get lost in the curve, of the only street of this village.
They pass.
People pass stepping puddles and passing clouds leave puddles on their way.
Words on the air pass being dragged by mouths while the gulls cut them with their winged passing.
Another day of summer passes.

December 13 / Poetry
 Yesterday a cloud leaned over the village. From here I could see it white, lying along the streets of the small Taumarunui.

November 29 / Poetry
 I confess I have lived a little bit.
28 years ago someone –my mother- named me “Tulia”
and since then I collect experiences in a handmade wicker basket
that has a hole in the bottom