A close call


When life is at close call,

We get sad by the smiles we did not give,

By the love we did not live

And by the friends we did not keep.

When life is at close call,

We get sad by the silence we did not break,

By useless discussions we had,

By the marks we did not leave away

And by the absence we did not awaken.

We get sad because we did not write everything we would like to have written,

We get sad because not all love letters were sent,

We get sad because we did not stop all the wrong doing that the world cowardly offers cowardly (as if it were possible).

But, yes, yes, yes!

Before we could have! Before we could have!

But, we did not do it. No, we did not…

We get sad by the time wasted on occupations that took our time instead being with those we love.

Planting a tree is not enough anymore, neither writing a book nor having a child.

We feel that we should have planted a forest, written several books (always changing ideas, why not?), and had a bunch of children, biological and from the heart.

When life is at a close call,

What settles us is a sweetening landscape in nature,

That reminds us of the forgotten youth that we still carry

In what is now a useless body, not so young anymore.

It is the lacerated love that beats in us,

Freeing the hope of a better “me”.

It is the memory that one day we did the right thing, we gave our best understanding to someone, regardless of the results.

What nurtures us is the fact that regret does not turn back time and what is done is consolidated,

The return of lived days does not depend on our will,

But life is much simpler than it seems,

And it could have even been written on a paper napkin.

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