SELF PORTRAIT

Every year I do the same exercise,
I look deeply into this photo my mom took when she was twenty-eight
this year will be the first time I overcome her age
well, she’s much older now, but I’ve been studying the face of this young lady for too long
that I don’t link it to my mom
for me, it’s a naturally beautiful woman born and raised in the countryside
no makeup, no creams, no shampoo, and whatever
who had just gotten married and had never been alone with a man before

before that, she had just been farming her family lands and teaching the alphabet to young children and the elderly
for many years I wondered: what if she had not gotten married
what if I could go back in the past and tell this woman with rough beauty and green eyes
to give up this pre-established trajectory of motherhood and marriage and forge her path alone

this seemed like the best idea in my youth
the idea of ​​preserving that wild, untouched beauty
of all that the life that was forced on her would destroy
but the closest I got to her age, the more I understood her choice
maybe I am closer to her heart, or my flame is fading too
towards the inevitable resilience of aging
and lose the creative courage of youth
almost nothing can impress me these days
and very rarely does anything have the strength to make me feel astonished other than love
I write a lot less than before
and I miss the butterflies in my belly
that usually comes when I realize the ephemeral nature of life
and usually resembles more the fear of loss than the novelty of discovery
I see the first marks of what would be wrinkles on the face of this woman in the photo
gently revealing itself in the traces of her restrained smile
each time we are more alike, more equally resigned
maybe I am also becoming a picture of what I could have been.