The Space for Sadness

Versión en castellano: El espacio para la tristeza

Our good fortune allowed us to feel a sadness that our parents didn’t have time for and a happiness that I never saw with them.

Mike Mills, Beginners

Only those who are fortunate enough

find the space for sadness.

And if you have gathered time to spend

walking through that vast space

of sadness,

then, I guess, you get

somewhere.

I don’t know.

I’m still knee deep

in the space where sadness grows wide like a lake

shallow like a pond,

and the weeds tickle your calves

and you find some other halves

of you, buried in the deep

and the water is not clear

and you fear that the bubbles in the mud

may be the truths

your halves, half buried, speak.

You’ll have to pull,

but still,

you’ll have to kneel,

pulling with

both hands, three

if you can,

and pull, your elbows mud,

and pull, weeding the lies,

and pull, until you find

those other halves

of you,

soft under the reed.

 

Only those who are brave enough

find the space for sadness.

 

And what do they know

that I ignore?

Does their God never let them down?

Do they know?

 

As empty of matter

as an atom,

as empty of matter

as a bomb,

the fear has grown.

 

Will I ever see the sight

of this lake from afar?

Is this the wind that blinds

the doors when they’re ajar?

 

Sun, will you help me dry my other halves

as I stretch them out on the pebble beach

(the rocks that used to be my dreams)

and wind, will you occupy

their paperless bodies when dry,

so I can say,

“hello”

and

“you are me”

and

“you’re set free”

and

“I apologize”?


Versión en castellano: El espacio para la tristeza

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