Pinacoteca

miércoles, junio 13, 2007

Esta manía de escribir es hereditaria

Hoy, en contra de mi propia voluntad, tuve que buscar entre las montañas de documentos que tengo almacenados en mi oficina. Es una tarea que llevo posponiendo, mas bien, desde que regresé a Puerto Rico en el 2002. Aunque está contenida y cuasi-organizada, igual, no sé dónde se encuentran muchas cosas. Por lo tanto, tuve que ir cajón por cajón, montaña por montaña, en busca de todo lo que necesito.

Lo interesante de hacer este ejercicio, es que uno encuentra cosas que había olvidado tener guardadas, como tesoros esperando ser rescatados. Casualmente, encontré un ensayo que escribió mi abuela en sus años de colegiala en Trinity University. Ella y yo hemos tenidos muchos paralelos en nuestras vidas: ambas fuimos aceptadas en Swarthmore College y no asistimos; nos apasionan los idiomas, la lectura, la buena música y las conversaciones extensas y trascendentales.

Recuerdo el día que llegó el periódico colombiano donde había publicado unos poemas - los primeros en un medio que no fuese una revista escolar. Ella, que era parca con sus halagos, se limitó a decir "That's wonderful, Ivy," a pesar del Alzheimer que le robaba sus recuerdos más recientes. Aquí dejo el texto que ella escribió, hace más de 50 años atrás:

The Martyr

He stood alone when all had left him. He stood alone among the shadowy trees with his arms held stiffly at his sides. A soft breeze gently ruffled the leaves and lovingly caressed his hair.

He stood tall and erect, his lithe body held taut with emotion that filled his heart and mind and overflowed into his soul. The lovely, stirring song of the world that had soothed him in other moments of stress he no longer could hear. The compelling beauties of nature he no longer could see; for his ears were filled with the sound of approaching doom and his eyes were filled with tears; tears that flowed down his cheeks and splashed down onto his robe; tears that cleansed the world of sin; tears that saved mankind from itself; tears of compassion, of love, of pity.

The moon came swiftly from behind stray clouds and lit his face. a face such as the world had never seen. A face filled with hope, with despair. A face of beautifully molded features, clear-cut, noble. The sweetly shaped mouth showed through his beard. The aquiline nose, the high cheekbones were marks of his race. The finely patterned eyebrows emphasized the strength wrought in his face. The profound eyes that stirred the hearts of men and delved into their souls were sad eyes, wistful eyes; eyes that never fully disclosed the mystery of love, of wisdom, of understanding that lay behind them. It was a face strangely sweet, filled with mystery and strength.

He stood now bathed in moonlight with his whole body vibrating in agony. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and raised his arms appealingly to God, crying out in a dread voice for aid, pleading for strength; for he knew what lay before him; he had known from the beginning. Beads of perspiration, looking almost like blood, dotted his forehead and his face was distorted in anguish.

As quickly as he had succumbed to fear, he was filled again with peace. His face relaxed into serenity. His lips quietly moved in prayer. The human weakness he had felt left no mark...Tranquility filled his soul, invaded the garden. A gentle murmur began among the trees while the moon glided slowly across the heavens.

Eileen Bertrand

8 comment(s):

Tremenda escritora la abue... lo que comprueba dos cosas: a-el que lo hereda, no lo hurta; y, b-como dijo Fitzgerald, "a writer wastes nothing"

By Blogger Elidio La Torre-Lagares, at 13 junio, 2007 08:38  

¡Qué cool!

By Anonymous Ciuda, at 13 junio, 2007 10:34  

Lo que se hereda no se hurta. Las letras se llevan en la sangre. Abrazos!

By Blogger Yiara Sofía, at 13 junio, 2007 14:12  

elidio - mi abuela era una mujer excepcional. por ella soy quien soy =) pd. amo a fitzgerald!

ciuda - ajá

yiara - así mismo es, bruji-amiga hermosa.

By Blogger Iva, at 13 junio, 2007 22:48  

estas querida entonces, IVA!

By Blogger Elidio La Torre-Lagares, at 14 junio, 2007 14:14  

aparentemente elidio ;)

By Blogger Iva, at 18 junio, 2007 01:48  

wow chica...envidia de la buena! deberias transcribir todos esos escritos y compartirlos.. :)un abrazo

By Blogger ojitos, at 18 junio, 2007 14:05  

ojitos - no son muchos los textos que tengo de ella. tendría que revisar a ver si encuentro más ;)

By Blogger Iva, at 18 junio, 2007 16:59  

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