Mon, Nov. 20th, 2006, 09:27 pm
Public entry.

The mother who is left there with her blood
and her torn fullness
and her end and beginning, and the disorder
that troubles the pulse, the floor, the blankets,
until everything gathers and adds
one more knot to the thread of life:
nothing, there is nothing left in your memory
of the fierce sea that lifted a wave
and knocked down a dark apple from the tree.

The only thing you remember is your life.

—Pablo Neruda

Today is the Transgender Day of Remembrance.

Remember our dead—not only for the tragedies of their deaths, but for their lives. Lives are what you can't forget. Lives are what keep it going.

la madre que allí queda con su sangre
y su desgarradora plenitud
y su fin y comienzo, y el desorden
que turba el pulso, el suelo, las frazadas,
hasta que todo se recoge y suma
un nudo más el hilo de la vida,
nada, no quedó nada en tu memoria
del mar bravío que elevó una ola
y derribó del árbol una manzana oscura.

No tienes más recuerdo que tu vida.

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