Black Sheep

Goodbye, black paint

I need not to remember you,

not to see your memory on my skin, on my hands,

in my mirror.

I need to say goodbye to the black paint,

that manicure that colors my days just for you,

and for you,

Goodbye, black paint,

goodbye, dark manicure,

Goodbye, darkness

Goodbye, false hopes.

Today I return to myself,

to being me...

and not a desperate attempt

to have you by my side or to know if you're looking at me.

Habian pasado dos largos meses, desde que el indignado y la oveja negra habían discutido y aunque los mensajes y comentarios en redes sociales hablandaron el corazon de una oveja obstinada, las causas comunes, la misma fe razonada que los presento, los hizo volver a ser los amigos de siempre.

El hombre de piel blanca y cabello rubio bien peinado y de contextura delgada esperaba en la antigua asociación de Teniente Peron, esa que pocos llegan, excepto los que saben como. El indignado vestia de forma semi informal, una camisa tan blanca como su piel con pantalones oscuros y sus borcegos por la fría tarde, una tarde de trabajo para la oveja y de él ser un espectador mas... Uno de los tantos que espera una palabra de orientación.

Aunque ese día era diferente, la pequeña oveja y una robusta leona tenían una energía diferente, como el aire fresco que entra por una ventana por años cerrada, aun entre la luz ultravioleta, el rubio podia ver esas dos perlas negras que miraban a las personas en su escencia para dar alivio y bienestar.

Al finalizar la jornada junto con la tarde y la gente que había asistido a la reunion, pese al mal clima, pese a los truenos y el crepitar incesante de la lluvia, el salon de la antigua casona había tenido concurrencia. Cuando ya todos se habían retirado, la oveja y su amigo indignado, se juntaron en el bar de siempre:

-Qué cansada te ves!- exhalo el indignado mirando como su amiga de energía vigorosa y temple inquebrantable, le devolvía una mirada de fatiga eterna, hambre y palidez mesclada...

- lo se - sonrió ella parpadeando lentamente, como si fuera a dormirse en cualquier lugar y momento.

- te parece que pidamos un café con una porción de torta? - le propuso el rubio con una sonrisa.

- si... Solo que un te para mi y un limón pie... - se saboreo la joven de rizos oscuros.

- Esta bien - la sonrisa del joven indignado se amplio - yo quiero chocotorta... Y... Quisiera saber que opinas de... La nueva prometida del principe sin color...

Los ojos oscuros de la oveja negra se cruzaron con los celestes del indignado, no era cualquier mirada, era una mirada furtiva, como la de un animal al que le habían tocado la herida y estaba apunto de morder. El gesto de ella se había endurecido y el silencio gobernó la mesa, hasta que llego la camarera, una joven con un traje prolijo para quien la pequeña oveja dibujo una sonrisa cortez y volver a su postura inicial:

- Qué puedo decir? - respondió ella mirando por la ventana del antiguo cafe frente al Congreso Nacional y sin poder disimular la lágrima que rodó en su mejilla - tu lo dijiste... Soy una mas del montón... Pero aun asi... Sigo sintiendo afecto hacia él y soy un servidor del mundo espiritual, no puedo negarme a lo que me piden... Menos si se trata de dar alivio a un alma herida...

- entiendo... - respondió el indignado, mientras sentía el dolor deslizándose por su garganta. Ella seguia cautivada por ese hombre, alguien que no le da nada, que no sera capaz de mirarla y de hacerlo - tenias razón en eso tambien...

-Qué? - se sorprendió la joven de rizos cobre, quien tenia los ojos abiertos enormemente, lo cual hizo reir al rubio de ojos claros... Esas expresiones espontáneas de su amiga, de esa oveja risueña y espontánea...

- me refiero... - dijo el indignado intentando calmar sus carcajadas, salidas del alma, difícil de contener y difícil de callar - que no hay secreto para tus ojos Black Sheep, sabias que el principe iba a dejar a "la rosa negra"... Ahora esta en el primer mundo de la mano de un nuevo amor... Y la "rosa negra" volvió al olvido...

- hablando de rosas negras...- empezo de forma pausada la pequeña oveja - me cruce con Black Queen en un café de Recoleta... Estaba sacando fotos y se acerco...

- y que quería la reina de las oscuridad?... Por que no suele hablar en publico pero ataca desde las sombras - se extraño el joven indignado...

- me ofreció unirme, ir al lado de las sombras... - dijo la oveja estremeciéndose - piensa que tener tristeza o viejos dolores me harán ir con ella...

- Esa mujer parece un Carancho... - bufo el joven indignado - te ha buscado siempre... Solo para destruir el grupo del lunes y hacer caer a varios...

- lo sé... - respondió Black Sheep acomodando su cabello - solo espero que se arrepienta como... El antiguo adversario...

- Dios nos ayude y el mundo espiritual, tambien... - el indignado y la pequeña oveja se miraron por un momento, como si ese silencio reparara toda distancia del pasado, pero no su relación, seguian en la hermandad, en la amistad sana en la cual ambos bajaban sus barreras y hablaban de todos los temas, el clima, la vida, la muerte, el alma y sus porvenires, pluralidad de mudos habitados, pero sobretodo, la "filosofía, ciencia y moral" venida de la antigua Francia...

To my longed-for love:

I know you never wrote to me,

that you never responded to a message,

a call,

a comment on social media.

That I've been a lost enigma,

your mystery that comes and goes,

that writes and leaves,

just to wish you a good day,

and the truth is...

on my skin lie the marks of yesterday.

and for that yesterday so ardent,

for the distance that separates us,

your irremediable silence...

and although you don't know it...

It was a rainy night

It was a night of wind and lightning

Of wind blowing

From the darkness of the nightstand

And He was there…

He was in the darkness

With pale skin

His pale face,

With an impassive expression,

But in his round eyes,

Green with a reddish tone,

Evil is pronounced.

I thought he really wasn’t there,

But he was…

I closed my eyes so as not to see

So as not to feel

But he was still there…

I thought he wasn’t there

But he was there,

I opened them again

And yes, he was.

In the darkness,

Where the moonlight doesn’t touch him

Nor the light of the nightstand

He was in the shadows

Where he lives…

And it has never mattered in the game of love,

if the person is white, black or mixed-race, if the smile is crooked,

if the person walks delicately or heavily, that is how love has been, that is dazzled not only by what it sees but by what makes it emerge.

The consecutive days of seeing that person, the intelligence, the detail or something that sometimes people don't know what...

She dreamed of an idyllic love.

She dreamed of having him during the day, having him at night, including him in her little world and, if possible, having children.

She dreamed of waking up next to him, of meeting their eyes, as their tired bodies had met at night,

she dreamed of loving him and being by his side, day and night, in good times and bad, in sickness and peace.

I could not specify, at what moment or instant, my will has become so fragile under the gaze of those two blue eyes...

of that sky in your eyes or the delight that is your voice

Really, I cannot say when you became my weakness,

that your joy is mine,

that your pain hurts me

After a long trip, the Black Sheep met her friend, the Blonde Goat, in a bar. They hugged each other and began to tell the stories of their lives, very similar and similar thoughts.

- I understand you... when my boyfriend traveled to the coast on weekends, for work, my dad would tell me: "your boyfriend goes with the whores and leaves you here"then, I told him: "No dad, he has me as a whore, you don't know what I do to him, don't you see that he's always happy" ...

both laughed at that anecdote...

- And what did your father do? - asked the Sheep laughing.

- He grabbed his chest and said "Oh! Oh! I'm dying, Graciela, help me," and my mother told him: "You deserve it for being stupid."- laughed the Blonde Goat.

The laughter started again.

The evening was falling when the sheep, tired of the routine, of thinking about the nuances of that personality, in the eyes of that man for whom the spirits asked her. A soul in need of rest.

In her need to clear her mind, she went out to a bar with calm colors, the terrace showed the streets of Recoleta, the moldings of the old house showed a restored French architecture, the sun was warm but relaxing; until she heard a voice, a particular voice that she had already known before:

- I didn't think I'd find you away from the herd - said in a peaceful voice, a woman with a statuesque body, fine dress and hats, dressed in black from head to toe. She approached the black sheep, while making her heels click against the floor.

- Good afternoon, madam - greeted the sheep, she did not fear the woman in front of her but, she knew what she was capable of and she sensed what she wanted, to recruit her for the dark side...

Known as the Black Queen, a witch, daughter of a witch, the darkness that she inherits and flutters in her aura, a darkness that is not a secret for those who follow her or for the sheep, who sees beyond. The Black Queen covers her face with the wide hat and taking the necessary distance, continues to address the Sheep:

- What an inheritance they left us... - said the woman - we inherited from our ancestors what we are today but... you grew a lot and from what I heard, you will occupy a good position... you could also occupy a position in our ranks...

- She is very insistent and I thank her, but I am fine where I am - the young woman with curls smiles

- What a pity... - answered the Black Queen - I could lighten your load, your pain... which is a lot...

- Why do you tempt me? If you know that without light I cannot live, beyond the pain... - the sheep smiles bitterly at the woman

- If you change your mind, you know where to find me... - the Black Queen said and walked away to the beat of her high heels.

The Sheep stayed on the terrace, feeling the warm breeze, the sun and happy that the Black Queen had left; she always appears suddenly and in the saddest or most confusing moments, as if looking for weak points to tempt her, to turn off a little of the light that exists... God help her to change her mind and serve the light, love and charity to others.

He was beautiful, before my eyes

He was what I wanted,

What I longed for...

Until he showed his other face

Until he screamed,

Until he despised

And worse... He betrayed.

Now,

I don't want to see you,

But... I wish you happiness,

That you can love...

I will be free

And you...

What would a life without love be?

without that person,

what would a life without color be,

without that sigh of the soul,

that changes our days...

without that person for whom...

we laugh if he laughs,

we are happy if he is happy

and agony invades us,

when he is sad.

And even if it is ridiculous,

to lose ourselves in that gaze

day after day,

a thousand nights and... above all

and the gypsy,

in her anger,

launched her curse

"I hope you fall in love"

to the boy, who mocked,

blasphemed and laughed at others.

She launched her worst curse,

to the ungrateful Christian...

to a young man who knows nothing of love

but will know...

it will be his torment,

a relief for his empty life...

it will be sweet and bitter,

he will love without reciprocating

and he will regret his offense,

he will regret his love...

and today... that Christian...

is THE OUTRAGED ONE

one has the darkness of the night

in her fur and two yellow stars shine on her face.

Her chubby body lets herself fall wherever she pleases and on domestic routes,

she accompanies saying meow meow...

Her older sister is different,

white as cotton flakes,

with a thick tail dyed black,

two green pearls adorn her face framed by two black spots up to her ears.

With a thin body and agile movements, without making a sound,

not even when walking or passing by, but she is by your side...

What a curious thing these cats are,

they say they are independent

but if you are not there, they miss you,

they accompany you to the bathroom door, they hide in urtaillas in the darkness to jump at your feet...

sometimes they look at you,

sometimes they don't look at you,

they look for your hands for affection or shelter and although they don't talk like a parrot,

AWAKE

Have you ever felt your heart broken,

the feeling that something is sad inside you... realizing the patterns and relationships

that you don't want to repeat, that for certain people you are just a pawn in their game, someone useful that they can manipulate at will... it is in those moments...

where you realize the links and the true intentions of people,

it is then, when you are AWAKE, Awake,

seeing your value, your lord, your feelings and that what you have done is by your own effort.

Therefore, I ask you, stay AWAKE so that no one reduces your value, your light, your life...

May this 2025 be a year of AWAKENING,