In celebration of International Women’s Day, Rising Voices grantee and Nari Jibon founder, Kathryn Ward, came up with the idea of a friendly poetry competition among Rising Voices bloggers. Participants of the ten citizen media outreach projects were given a week to write and submit their poems related to the theme “women hold up half the sky.”
Two HiperBarrio participants, Carolina Vélez López and Yesenia Corrales, submitted the following entries:
Rejas
¿Moriré en vida?
Ya el frío me congela
Ya la razón se anestesia en la ilusión.
La oscuridad enceguece mi vida y la cara de todos aquellos seres queridos que me esperan.
Quien creyera, unas simples rejas me resguardan,
Quien lo viera, la dignidad se fuga al ver que le han impuesto cadenas,
Quien pensaría, que reconocer el error es enmendar y de nuevo comenzar.
De brazos cruzados suspiro mi silencio, nuestro silencio y el silencio de aquellas mujeres que anhelan dia a dia ser marcadas con resaltador, por la sociedad que las limitó a no ser nadie,
A ser polvo de hoguera
A darnos vida cuando nos recuerdan.
Talvez doy asco, porque me repugnan estas 4 paredes
Aquí si, aquí donde se extingue a la escoria hay un mundo,
Un planeta donde se hace lo posible por sobrevivir.
No todas tienen ideales, porque tiempo atrás en la clase de la vida,
Aprendieron a desvincular sus sentimientos, sus hijos, sus remordimientos.
¿Qué puedo decir? ¿Qué les puedo decir?
A este lado la monotonía es un himno, pero tiempo después recupero mi libertad,
Recupero mis lágrimas que resbalan una a una en aquella piel que envejece
Y agradece haber “SALIDO DE LA CARCÈL”
Todos tenemos una cárcel,
Todos tenemos un dia a dia
Y no todas pensamos y decidimos estar en una cárcel…
Will I die alive?
Freezing cold
With reason anesthetized by illusion.
Darkness shadows my life and the faces of the loved ones that await me.
Who would believe, some simple bars guard me
Who would see, dignity fleeing at the site of chains,
Who would think, that to recognize a mistake is to amend and start over.
With crossed arms I sigh my silence, our silence, and the silence of all women who yearn every day to stand out, by a society that limits them to be a no one,
To be ash of a fire
To give us life when we are remembered.
Perhaps I’m nauseating, because these four walls disgust me
Right here, here where they sweep up all the scum there is a world,
A planet where you do all that is possible to survive.
Not everyone has ideals, because some time ago in the classroom of life,
They learned to separate their feelings, their children, their remorse.
What can I say? What can I tell them?
On this side the monotony is a hymn, but some time later I will recuperate my freedom,
Recovering my tears which slip down this aging skin one by one
And feel grateful for having beeen “LET OUT OF PRISON”
We all have a prison
We all have a day to day
And we didn’t all think and decide to be in a prison …
Yesenia Corrales
Convergentes - HiperBarrio
EL SER MUJER
EL SER MUJER (original)
En un principio, aún incierto, apareció la mujer, un ser creado fibra a fibra de azúcar, adornado con tanto hilos dorados como sentimientos, un ser que se derrite con cada palabra que infunde fuego en ella, y que se enfría, levantando la pared más fuerte, con aquellas que llegan como témpano ante ella. Luego, aparece aquella cubierta que es más que piel, una cubierta conductora de emociones, de latidos, de vibraciones. Y apareció la mujer, y con ella la dulzura de las cosas hechas con la delicadeza que nada más se encuentra en ese ser.
BEING A WOMAN (literally)
In a beginning, uncertain yet, the woman appeared, a being created of sugar fibre by fibre, adorned with so many golden threads like feelings, a being that melts with every word that infuses fire in her, and that cools, raising the strongest wall, with those [words] that arrive like icebergs before her. Then, it appears that cover that is more than skin, a cover conductor of emotions, [heart] beats, vibrations. And it appeared the woman, and with her the sweetness of the things done with the delicacy that can only be found in that being.
THE WOMAN BEING (non-literally)
In a beginning, uncertain yet, appeared the woman, a being created fibre by fibre of sugar, adorned with so many golden threads as emotions, a being that melts down with every word that infuses fire in her, and that freezes, raising the strongest wall, with those that arrive like icebergs upon her. Then, that cover appears, it’s more than just skin, it’s a conductor of emotions, of beatings, of vibrations. And the woman appeared, and with her the sweetness of the things made with the delicacy that can only be found in that being.
Poem by: Camila Urrea Morales (Colombia)
Translated by: Carolina Vélez López
