Una Historia Rara: El Caso de la Carga Pesada - in the series "Beyond The Shadows of Tomorrow"

          Absence is a strange thing. You would think, that over time, its burden would become lighter, as time puts more distance between you and the people or person you miss. But, as it turns out, the opposite happens: those we miss and truly love, do not disappear light as feathers into the mists of time. The pain of their absence becomes heavier, and we feel that increasing weight on our heart: the more time goes by, the heavier the absence feels. It seems very odd, but true, and this poem deals with that sensation, that abrasive pain that rubs like sandpaper on the inner walls of our heart, when the absence of loved ones starts singing its melancholic songs, and touches the wound of missing them, that feels fresh still, with each passing chime of the clock of time. I wrote the poem in Spanish, thinking of Caribbean music, of the optimism of salsa songs and instruments, to add a sense of rhythm of defiance, of determination, of rebellion, a touch of humor, and hope, to the transcendental awareness that time does not heal the wound in our heart of missing those we cannot be with for all sorts of reasons, that in the end seem cruel and incomprehensible, when seen in the vastness of the universe and its myriad expressions:

El Caso de la Carga Pesada 

Es una historia rara, el caso de la carga pesada, que sucede cuando el corazon ama. El corazon que despues se da cuenta, que la ausencia duele, que con el tiempo que pasa no se apaga. 

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Que hacer, entonces, de ese peso pesado, de sentir el dolor de la ausencia penible del ser querido, como aguantar la pena, de se saber lejos, de sentir el plomo meterse al centro de nuestra alma. 

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Parece contrario a todas leyes naturales, que el peso se pone mas pesado, mas que el tiempo pasa, que el recuerdo no cancela para el corazon que ama, la carga dura de la ausencia, que cada dia se pone mas evidente, la agonia de tener que aguantar su tormenta. 

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El remedio es la fuerza interior de no abandonar la esperanza, de no dejar que el fuego si dulce del amor que sentimos, se encuentra olvidado, se vuelve cenizas, se hace polvo en el molino de viento que nos trae la renuncia. 

Trudi Ralston

"You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim of the sky will be the color of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire." Anna Akhmatova (1889 - 1966).