Nakedness Few things frighten me, not even the imminence of death. It is a mere transition, a return to soil, the recycling of the minerals in my body. Yet, an uncertainty looms and clings. It’s a rumbling waterfall in my mind that crashes down to the depth of my soul then soars to fill my mist-filled eyes. Just the thought to unremembering or the inability to dress myself, to tie my shoelaces, unbutton my garments or distinguish the faces and voices surrounding me. The lights lining the road of my life dim and eventually die. I will lose sight of the ambiguous present. I won’t recall the faces of my loved ones. My memories will be shrouded by the fog. A drizzle will drown my recollections. A creature that dwells and grows inside me, robs my thoughts and my most precious memories, renders the nakedness of my feelings… And I confess: I quiver, shake and tremble at the very thought. Lonely Umbrella Rainy days always evoke memories. We could both squeeze under the umbrella despite that it was pouring and cold. You grinned as you gave me a look. I could feel the pressure on my arm, the warmth of your hand, the heat of your skin… Rain turned into a thunderstorm. The wind blew me around like a falling leaf and the umbrella flipped over. My hair got wet even when you tried to cover me. Both of us laughed. Today I am struck by how deserted the streets are. You are not present. My memory is faulty. I then remember the splash of your footsteps, the unexpected kiss on my cheek and your hasty turn as soon as I boarded the bus. I turned around and my thoughts jumbled on my mind. The umbrella seemed to utter a happy farewell and I immediately regretted it. Why didn't I let you know? I do not know when I learned that I had to wait for you rather than me confessing how much I liked you? Now that it is late I want you to know that I loved you from the moment we looked into each other’s eyes. Now that you can´t hear my voice, I confess my love as I wander around this empty world without you. Ungiven Hug You vanished in the thin air like an ungiven hug. A still ocean full of silent waves rowing to nowhere. I can hear your voice whispering in the fields or in the shadows every night when the sun sets. Its echo travels to the mountains and back to me. My pillow has that unique scent of your kisses. I can still touch your body on my bedspreads. I wait for the sun of your eyes to rise again but it is too dark and grey thunderclouds appear. And I wait for the dawn, so close, yet so far. Your memory hikes far away mountains, climbs fences and I, unsuccessfully, try to get a hold of your image, to kiss your hands, but the orange clouds in the distance appear closer and my array of hopes dies with the sunset. Rivers flow into my mind, dirty water, muddy currents surround me. I try to swim, but my hands don't move. The tide gets bigger, it threatens my body. Hidden currents pull me as I hopelessly try to reach the shore. The water caresses my throat. My feet bearly touch the bottom. I know I am getting deeper and deeper into this ocean of dispair. There is no lifeguard, not even a branch to hold on to. My heart sinks into the waters. It is getting dark and I see no signs of the sea shore. Just hollowness and tears.
ZULMA QUIÑONES SENATI was born in Yauco, Puerto Rico. She studied at the Catholic University of Puerto Rico in Ponce, where she completed her bachelor’s degree in Education in 1970. Has written De mariposa a crisálida (2001), La barca en el tiempo (2005), El rostro oculto (2008) in narrative and Este sendero conmigo (2013), Fragilidad de vidrio soplado (2018), Piel de almendra (2019) Alas de Colibrí (2020) Gemidos de fuego (2021) and Senderos en el río de la infancia(2023) in poetry. Several of her stories and poems have been awarded in national and international competitions and published in Anthologies in Spain, Argentina, Greece, Puerto Rico and other countries. She has coordinated the International Festival of Poetry and Art Grito de Mujer in Puerto Rico for the last twelve years.
Confessions 