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…
I was born with eyes of sailboat on the horizon, pen suspended in the air, or bird’s wing.
What mattered Sagittarius, Scorpio, the signs and omens?
May be I hung from a good star
or maybe it was all because the wind
The truth is that, since then life lives me, and I only testify
with a chest that rises and falls -as the certainty of existence-
I have been told: You got waves in the curls
and I say: I have both waves and cactus fruits,
I belong to the sea as well to the land
and sometimes even I look after the wind
with nurse’s hands
The truth is… Yes, on this island
I live with the joy of a flyingfish,
sometimes submerged, sometimes in flight…
What else can I say?
“That I am rich, rich as the wealth of coal ready to burn.”
[On my birthday]
[The quote in the last line is from Olga Orozco]