The Irrational Hero

Can you see my scars shining?
My dry eye behind the patch?
Can you read me despite the blots?

I am not limping, I am just slow.

Once, I was a bird, sometimes I was a tree, a cloud.

I remember the day, the sea looked at me for the first time, and I was scared, just like I am scared now.
I am not crying; I am repeating the vowels of the ocean.

Suddenly, I do appreciate the architecture of my hands. They are beautiful.
And something sinister is slaughtering the sons and the daughters of this silken song.

Can you taste the metallic essence upon the ink?
How the ambience is crushing the shadows?
The collection of breathless clocks indicating ominous days?

Where did that murmur come from? Who are those kids calling me?

I am a dot, not a book, not a poem. I am the nameless verse that you are reading.
I am not a mountain but a pebble. I am not brave; I am a coward and I am scared.

Should I have run, should I have gone, should I have hidden?

I am the symbol of nothing. The otherness´s flag.
I am no one. I am alone and alone I am. I have just myself and no one else.
I am an anonymous anomality. The outcast, just another tasteless boring number.
And a fragment of the sky is about to hang me. A fragment of heaven has granted me my last wish.

I want nothing but to pick a fool who will write my dreams.
Make him believe that he´s in charge.
Make her love me, even when I am gone.
It is not the iron blood, it´s the tear´s steel.
It is not my blood, it´s the blood of the flowers running through my veins.
But then again, when I am walking, it’s not me anymore, is someone else.

My hair un-comb the wind.
The slabs clench their teeth when they see me coming.
Over my shoulder rests the new moon.

Here I am, without a name, without a face.
Here I am, without the chains.
Here I go, carrying all the cowards that they ran away before.

I am scared, but I keep running against them.
No more Cinderellas in my town, not more dead children at the parks.
No more slaves or neither the snakes.
From the historical collateral nightmares.

By the rubble, by the cadavers.
By the degraded statistical clots.
By the victims of your viral thoughts.
Hence the long red silhouettes that cross the lakes in flames.

Here I am.
Here I go, against all the odds.
Against all the fog of your proxy-wars.
Here I am.

I’m scared, but I keep running to find them.
I’m scared, but I’m not going to let them run away
I am scared, but I defeat myself by going against them.

I’ve been dead for a long, long time, but I get up when you say my name.
Your invisible voice lifts me up.
Your heart sings me up.

My corpse was left lying on the streets, but I keep running to find them.
Because I repeat myself in those who were fighting before.
Because I repeat myself in the oppressed ones.
Because I repeat myself in your victims.

Because this, this is the immortality.
Because I repeat myself in those who will come.

I am the bullet; I am the silver bird. I am the liquid screen.
I am the blade. I am the shield.
I am the splinter that breaks the greed, the spur where another form will bloom.

Call me, summon me, invoke me.
I am the glitch that you were expecting. I am you.

I get up and they rise within me, all those who ran before.
I am no longer afraid; I am the fear that they are running away from.

Here I am with the storms on my eyes, bringing all the forgotten names.
Here I am, standing behind your story, reading precisely what we just wrote.
Here we are, here we are. You and me.