INEVITABLE
María Inés Iacometti (Santa Fe – Argentina)
I think of your love
so steep, so uphill
so complicated and difficult
that it declares itself a “miracle”
without asking you, without speaking to us.
I think of my love
so naive, persistent,
so full of secrecy and sunshine at the same time,
unsuspected, inadequate
unspeakable…, a “miracle.”
I think of the two of us
and of the few moments
of aligned times
that find us in friction
perpetual, everyday,
bound by destiny and free
with questions on our lips
and sublime mockeries of skin
ignoring excuses:
light, upright, exhausted,
ecstatically happy, without consultations.
I think of this love
unnamed, indecipherable,
with attentive eyes and expectant light
with concrete shadows
and messages…, indelible.
So fearful that it refuses
to call itself love.
It chooses instead to hide
in the cup of its hands
in the tremor of the afternoon
that awaits us and does not,
that only sometimes brings us.
I think of you and me…
inevitable.
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