Disparar los sonidos que mi alma produce,
sosegar mi cuerpo
que aguarda por el amor,
sin el miedo,
sin el castigo,
sin el devastamiento
a mis terrenos cultivados
por secretas libertades
y cuando tenga mis cosechas
Seré como el viento que barre el horizonte
y la música limpie el dolor.

_Fuente

English version

Reflections for a woman:
This poem is inspired by the story of @aidarojasmusica: "To be a woman in a macho society", where it exposes a whole series of abuses and mistreatments suffered as a woman, to her I dedicate this poetic song as putting myself in her shoes.
With this post I make my entry to the poetry contest of the milkbox project in collaboration with the awareness campaign carried out by the Foundation @loto-azul.
16 DAYS OF ACTIVISM AGAINST GENDER VIOLENCE.

Where does this road lead me?

This fear that I hide
it grows every moment
This crying that I leave
it's a story I drag,
and my streets are rivers

Navigation events without the necessary raft
Where an angel looks
and they sprout empty, absent,
Memories of buried treasures.
I have to hurry
so that the monsters of reason
don't feed your anxiety
And spit out the string of words
that imprison my shadows.

Where love is absent
Just the threat,
where the dream floats
and it doesn't stop falling.
The search engines of anomias
misinterpret my dreams,
they mislead neurons,
label lives.

Looks that remind you
lusts lent
shouts of forced or feigned pleasure,
where the absurd is a game
of congratulations plucked.
Where you get trophies
for stolen childhood.

How many blows should I take?
How much soul must I lend so as not to die?

I want to see the roads to walk
without this cross,
without these wounds that don't bleed
where I can give rest to the threat and
to good care
that monsters want for me.

Why do you miss lusts
are chasing my dreams?
I return to my solitude
where I can counterattack,
to defend the fort of my dreams.

To shoot the sounds that my soul produces,
calm my body
who waits for love,
without fear,
without punishment,
without the devastation
to my cultivated lands
for secret liberties
and when I have my crops
I'll be like the wind that sweeps the horizon
and the music clears the pain.

_{Fuente de vectores // source of vectors: Gráficos de pngtree.com
Imágenes modificadas con: //Images modified with: PhotoScape y PowerPoint}