by Natalia Herc (translated from Spanish)
Bel,
yesterday I cried all night long.
The crickets, the plants, the doors, the windows, the chair,
the table,
they also cried with me. I miss you.
Semo.
Semo,
yesterday while I was sleeping I left my body and became air. I saw myself sleeping, I got scared, I shouted your name a hundred times and you didn’t answer. I realized that being air I no longer had a voice, so I stroked the crickets, danced with the plants, slammed doors, chie through the cracks of the windows, moved the chair and thundered the table. I saw you cry.
I went back to look for my body, but it was gone. I hope to find you, at least in my dreams. Bel.
Bel,
Today, after a long time I left the house.
The grille,
the lantern,
the post,
the pavement, the wires,
the tennis shoes on the wires, the decayed walls,
they still remember you, there I find you. Semo.
Semo,
today I learned to talk to the birds, each one taught me his song. When you hear them remember me.
Bel.
Bel,
yesterday I went out to look for birds.
Swallows, sparrows, pigeons, bluebirds, blackbirds, warblers, thrushes. I could hear you. Semo.
Semo,
yesterday I traveled to Chachalacas, a beach in Veracruz.
The sand is heavy and has a color between brown and gray. It’s not pretty, but it has its own thing. In the parts where it is drier I picked up each granite and stuck them in the pores of each person’s skin, as if they were small needles. With that I let people know that I am here. At night the moon invited me to play with the sea and we made waves.
I wish you were here. Bel.
Bel,
today I heard on the news about the weather in Veracruz.
Heavy rain.
Electrical discharges.
Wind 80 km/h.
Gusts 100 km/h.
Swell 12 meters.
80% probability of cyclonic development.
A hurricane is named after you. Semo.
Semo,
today I played with the moon, the sun and the sea, from so much playing I became wind and picked up speed. The palm trees danced to my rhythm and the sea made this one with the waves. People didn’t like it, now the beach is alone, and me with it. There are only a few footprints left in the sand, empty chairs and umbrellas on the shore. The loneliness makes me sad. I cried all afternoon, the clouds also cried with me.
When it rains think of me. Bel.
Bel,
yesterday I decided to take the trip to the coast, I visited every road town along the way, the ones we all pass through and forget.
San Marcos, Rio Frio, Amozoc, Zitlaltepec, Tepeyahualco, Perote,
Las Vigas, Jilotepec, Miradores, Plan del Rio, Rinconada, Cardel.
I feel you close to me. Semo.
Semo,
yesterday, after several days without people on the beach, by night, some musicians arrived. They came from a town which name I had never heard of, neither I nor anyone else; they were as old as their instruments. They taught me to play their instruments and I discovered that I could also make music.
We played the melody of a song that reminds me of you. Bel.
Bel,
today I came to the coast, I sang with some musicians that song you like so much and I found you.
On the harp,
the jarana,
the requinto,
the marimba,
the music,
the waves of the sea,
the dance of the mangrove,
the flight of the girls’ hair, the movement of the sand, the dance of the palm trees, the singing of the birds. In the rain. We are here.
