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Monica Contreras Poem
I noticed the uniform, and the heavy soled shinny black boots
Not the man within it, I apologized.
I remember the clean fresh smell of maleness, as they stormed into the house,
Broken glass, ripped down hangings, a slashed sofa, a pulled curtain,
A sudden maneuver to throw my brother’s bear across the yard,
Such military worries, hidden bombs in a child’s best friend.
Your broken cross I buried in our garden after they left.God, come back to my house, I am
waiting.
All I saw were figures painted the colour of grass and bark,
with gilded edges traced by some crazed church painter's brush,
faceless with pockets full of bullets and chords,
Their arms intertwined with red eyes and swollen hands of my teachers,
Stiff figures against the soft jeans, sweaters, and knitted hats below.
Standing witness in the yard above watching, I waited for her to die.
Shinny black like the dirt dug from the mass grave,
Full of crumbled human bits, decaying coloured cloth,
while the sun scorched the group sorting the cellular samples
I saw the black boots etched into the bone fragments.
Lost bones of lost loved ones from empty families,
Standing in the desert, I wait for a name.
No, I do not see you the man, just the uniform.
I see the butt of the gun, the dent of the boot, the slickness in the air,
the cruel power of the swirl jungle green print with gold trim.
As a witness God left me, and I was waiting.
Change, let me meet the man,
maybe the waiting is over.
Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010
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Monica Contreras Poem
As usual frozen seagulls fly above us every night,
blind I approach our bed in the darkness,
tracing the linear surfaces of the embroidery,
as their long-winged spans shadow the pillow mounds.
The salty residue found on your lips,
Falls off as you ask me the time.
Late, very late, almost too late, sorry,
The journey back was longer than I planned.
The space beside you invites me into its pools.
In a slow shift and quicken foothold,
with exact measure you leave me a gap,
you fit me into your crevasses.
The small of your back is damp and curving,
heat emanates under the wraps of your limbs
your steady breath has sudden flutters.
I sweep into our soft warm nest,
below the folding sheets and the crested mounds,
valleys of our flesh, cotton and blue silk
Twist in the ebb, the back and forth of the tide.
Full of longing I steal a long caress under and up your back,
awoken in my current you harshly pull my hand,
twisting it to the back of the rafter’s edge,
I curve into your rising waves as you turn,
your heat is released into the cold air around us.
The stone walls begin to glisten with our breath,
Beneath us, the ocean becomes disturbed
Unable to swim, we gasp for air and float.
Every limb is occupied with a particular task
In perfect rhythm within our fabric island
we bathe in the hot moisture of the foam.
As the waves start to sing in low steady pitch,
our stretched hands caress the shore over and over
as a poetry of colours explode in my head, and
as you surface, mariner conquered.
I taste the salt in your skin, prying away,
into separate space to catch the last molecule of air.
Full of guilty laughter we gather the tossed garments.
Fogged up the glass, we loose hold on the compass,
sailing past shipwrecks and other lost voyagers,
tucked under the covers again before the heat dissipates,
together on our journey.
Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010
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Monica Contreras Poem
On an insignificant shore during,
An insignificant afternoon,
A moment of pause within a frenzied day,
On this plinth I rest with you.
After all the climbing efforts to capture,
An elusive view of that starfish,
You speak of the beauty around us,
This is it, the sense of place.
Here, I find.
A common outcrop of rock,
One step up from the dirty sandy beach,
A sudden void in the folds of time,
The bay of Arauco around us,
With littered wasted shells of humanity.
My heart aligns with the to and fro,
Your soft tone looses against the splash,
As waves rhythm us into the horizon
Here, I sit.
My memories sweet and disturbing,
As clear as the seagulls sweeping before us,
Blow away in the soft flowing breeze of the afternoon.
The reply to my question that lingered, in a second
The answer comes into me with the spray of the ocean.
Frozen in pose together, lively in conversation
You reveal the innermost nature of your soul, and
I feel the change come over me,
Here, I know.
A grain of truth in this insignificant place,
while explorations continue around us,
It took me three decades and a second,
An obvious quest for a new beginning.
Around us they climb and observe, all having their own,
A photograph, a particle of sun, a moment.
You, my student, exposed and open, and I,
Safe with you, accepted my new duties,
Here, I am.
On an insignificant shore during,
An insignificant afternoon,
Time released me from the flight.
I cleaned the sand between my toes,
And stepped down launched anew,
No more entanglements and dispersals.
You spoke of that moment between us,
I smiled. That was the moment, my new beginning,
There, I forgave all.
Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010
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Monica Contreras Poem
Remember once when we last walked,
The beach of our childhood, you asked?
Make your choice, as I trailed sand behind you.
Then I climbed beyond your long shadow to the stone shore
And you reached out to me, do not fall now.
What choice is there for me? Tanks are on the beach
Our mighty military strategy pointing to the penguins and the seagulls
Choose your future, you speaking against the wind
Barely, I heard your word future, all I saw were tanks
with your wavy smile you held my hair back, crazy hair girl
Come back, we belong here together.
A life without tanks, I said,
My choice is,
to dream, to build and to think free, that is my destiny,
Separated, a life-sentence, you whispered,
So unjust a choice, you screamed it.
I cried loudly, louder and wider than the waves,
You screamed it over, over and over, frightening the birds.
The tank guards thought ours a lover’s spat on the rocks,
smiling down as we shuffled out of the tide in random steps.
Beyond the beach, I left your bed, your patio, your street,
I flew into the air.
Remember, yesterday when I forgave you,
Your choice that is,
to dream, to build and to stay here, that is your destiny,
And you reached out to me, do not fall now.
Separated, is our life sentence, I whispered.
Yes no choices left for us then, you said.
Choose again.
Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010
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Monica Contreras Poem
What a good question,
How did I get here? You asked.
At the beginning, a straight path,
One second, one breath, at a time
in a haze, one step forward, at a time.
Sleep, eat, learn, grow-up, build a home,
Time, becoming unlimited in itself.
Many, new problems to solve, concrete and focused.
Hidden intersections, curving stairways,
And the horizon distancing my quest
Other people’s problems took over,
And years tolled by, gardens were planted,
lives were created, challenges completed.
Many, more tasks to accomplish for a wide spread reach.
Options, series of platforms, upwards and downwards,
little space to stand and listen to time passing,
my problem so irrelevant and intangible, out of focus,
more years passed, life divided by stages and phases,
lost in my translation, time held me incomplete.
Many, memories harassed me, looking for that key.
Here, I stand in front of this waterfall, You asked.
One second, one breath, at a time
in a haze, one step forward, with a key.
Sleep, eat, teach, work, dream a future,
Time, is unlimited in itself.
Many, new ideas, a role to play, concrete and focused.
Copyright © Monica Contreras | Year Posted 2010
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