En algún sitio lejano
una mujer limpia sus heridas
detrás de las máscaras que ofrece al mundo.
Hay hombres que le mienten
y lo disfruta.
Momentos,
en que sus hijos
le piden un abrazo
y tienen que esperar
porque el instante pide otra sonrisa,
no para ellos
sino para el hombre
al que le da igual
el trazo de Lucía,
el descubrimiento de Lucas,
la pérdida de la memoria del padre,
el blanco de los pétalos
en el abrazo del árbol.
En algún sitio,
mi corazón,
es apenas
una herida.
Somewhere far away,
a woman cleans her wounds
behind the masks she offers to the world.
There are men who lie to her,
and she enjoys it.
Moments,
when her children
ask for a hug
and have to wait
because the moment demands another smile,
not for them
but for the man
who doesn't care about
Lucía's stroke,
Lucas's discovery,
the loss of the father's memory,
the whiteness of the petals
in the tree's embrace.
Somewhere,
my heart,
is barely
a wound.
I invite you to visit the project DRIP - WITNESS NODE - BPUD 
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