It has been many years.
I have loaded the water of many rains that allowed us to continue existing.
I have crouched down my life to allow the stream of the stream to enter my container.
I have walked many steps looking for my people's livelihood in every corner of my path.
And I keep loading dry firewood on my head. Because, although there is not always water, I must always turn on the fire. And feed it with what I have been able to get. To cook our food for every day. Which is sometimes enough and allows us to be satisfied. And that other times it is nothing but a warm rest that we had a day before.
I have talked to the earth and I have told my dreams that I have been able to tell no one else.
I have veiled for the health of our animals that move around me waiting for food and attention.
I have allowed my man to love me according to his desire and his will.
I have given my children next to the open fire of my home or next to the oldest trees on the road.
I have shown them naked in the sun and the moon waiting for their protection.
I have fed them with my breast milk until the milk was exhausted. I have seen them grow and sometimes I have seen them die.
I have not asked reasons because I know I can't do it.
And time has passed, slowly or quickly. A day always new has renewed an old day who already died.
And I, gathering my feet and hands, I have loosened the rhythm of my steps, I have accompanied it to the future of the small things that now reign in my head.
And, for a small hole that I left open on the horizon, I still wait for the time to get out.
By Pepe Navarro
