(lu)cia

... We choose words, not silence. We choose words to bury our grief. A woman cannot say the heaviness of her life, just like that, without madness. A woman must speak the beauties and the sorrows of her heart, she must dream a celebration. A woman must not forget, she must not bury her sorrow and her dreams. If a woman buries her sorrow, a dream will kill her children. A woman sings the wisdom of her heart, sings her waiting, greets the moment of birth, defeats death and silence......we met in water...birth is like water turning gently into cloud...the sky is only words. The sky is inside us. The sky is hard to store in a small place even if it is only a word. The sky is water. Words are water too. I do not drown in the sky. Drowning is death...those buried in the ground have also drowned. A soft drowning of words. How can we be buried when no words have been uttered? Only words can bury us, she says. How can death arrive when the mouth has not allowed it to arrive? Death has a name which we carry in the mouth without dying. Only words can bury us not silence...An echo is not a word. An echo is the end of a word. After an echo is silence. I have swallowed many echoes.-Yvonne Vera