I AM WORD
I am word,
I am silence,
and I am the border between Europe and America.
I am a meztiza,
I am tongue,
and I am time.
I am border;
I am the border between the Colossus of the North,
and the Ariel of the South.
I am everything and nothing,
I am that and I am not.
I am the wind and the flute.
I am a piece of Ecuadorian clay mixed with German pottery.
All bloods flow through me;
all bloods are one in me.
My womb is the border;
my womb is the border between Ecuador,
Greece, and the United States.
My identity lies on the sole of my feet.
My identity is crossing the border.
The border is to leave one’s mother land,
and step into some else’s land.
My identity is always to feel emptiness in my womb.
I find balance in the pose of the tree,
I find possibilities,
and I find eighty-four possibilities.
I want to see the future in the past.
I try to find myself in time through the reflection of the sunrays on the star of my mirror.
I am the reflection on the other side,
I don’t know myself.
I am not that face,
I am her,
and I am not.
The word resides inside of me.
My body is liquid of my dreams.
Every day I feel the desire of the word.
The word that comes out of my body is full of water.
That’s how poems are born.
They are born from a craving,
from an eye,
from a window,
from a memory.
Poetry is word,
a memory of a never lived past,
a memory of a premature childhood.
Poetry is silence,
memory of the body from the tip of the toes to the crown.
The word lives in my body.
I am the sphinx raising its chest,
I am the tiger licking her tail,
and I am the one praying to Buddha in Hebrew,
I am a tree pretending to be an eagle.
I am silence.
©Ivón Gordon Vailakis