Its always sunny...

She purchased the ticket and waited for her train to arrive.
While sitting on the bench, she went through the brochure she had seen many times.  The pictures described it as a bright, sunny place with many things to do and see.  She teared up at the thought of finally taking her journey and arriving to the place she had dreamed about most of her life.  She pictured herself smelling the flowers every morning, going for a walk in the afternoon and watching the horizon disappear in the sunset.

Suddenly, her day dream was interrupted by a loud whistle. The train was here to take her away. She climbed in and found her seat by the window. As the train started its slow departure, she looked out one last time. She was saying her goodbyes to her home, her life and her memories.

She stared intensely out the window trying to get one last panoramic view of the place that gave birth to her and saw her grow up. The feeling of regret was starting to fill her mind before the train even passed the last house and she quickly dismissed it looking down at her brochure. She convinced herself she was going to a great place where she would make more beautiful memories. She dozed off and dreamt some more about the flowers and the sunset.

When she woke up she realized she had been sleeping for quite a while. She looked out the window again and noticed the terrain was very different from the last time she had looked out.  She looked around and saw the unfamiliar faces that filled the train. She had fallen asleep with the noise of her people and familiarity of her surroundings. It was now a quiet, bumpy ride. Each passenger looked out their own window as if they, too, looked for something familiar out there in the dry and rocky terrain.

It was the middle of the afternoon when she noticed the sky was turning dark blue. Clouds seemed to be forming all around her as far out as she could see. It was a sort of darkness, wrapping around her, that made her feel uncomfortable.  The ride seemed to be bumpier than usual eventhough the train had slowed to a very painfully slow speed. She could see the slopes slowly turning into hills, the hills into mountains. The higher the mountains, the slower she went, the darker it was.

There was a loud clanking noise from under the train as it slowed to a dead stop. It was completely dark as if the train had stopped in the middle of a tunnel. Her heart was suddenly overcome by a sad, uneasy feeling. The train grew quieter as the seconds passed. It was completely filled with people, yet they seemed to stay quiet while these events took place. She knew they were there, not even 3 feet away from her, but she felt like she was alone, far away from what she knew was home, stopped in the middle of a dark and cold cave.

She hated the dark, her heart was beating so fast she had to swallow to keep it from busting out of her neck. She heard someone climb into the train, take 3 steps and say, "Ladies and gents, there seems to be a malfunction. We have our crew working on it to get you to your destination as soon as possible. As soon as we're ready to move on, we will inform you. Please stay seated...". The voice went on giving them instructions and all she could do was think back and immediately regret leaving her home.

The time went on and although she could not stand the silence, the dark, the wait, she knew she had no choice but to wait for the voice to come back with good news. "How could everybody remain so calm when they sat there in complete darkness? But what about the flowers? Why can't I have my afternoon walk? Why did we go from sunlight to complete darkness without enjoying the sundown?" Her mind was full of questions that demanded answers quickly.

She sat there in complete silence, the brochure gripped tightly in her hand and pressed against her chest.

It was too late to turn back now.

"NO hay pura luz
ni sombra en los recuerdos:
éstos se hicieron cárdena ceniza
o pavimento sucio
de calle atravesada por los pies de las gentes
que sin cesar salía y entraba en el mercado.


Y hay otros: los recuerdos buscando aún qué morder
como dientes de fiera no saciada.
Buscan, roen el hueso último devoran
este largo silencio de lo que quedó atrás.


Y todo quedó atrás, noche y aurora,
el día suspendido como un puente entre sombras,
las ciudades, los puertos del amor y el rencor,
como si al almacén la guerra hubiera entrado
llevándose una a una todas las mercancías
hasta que a los vacíos anaqueles
llegue el viento a través de las puertas deshechas
y haga bailar los ojos del olvido.


Por eso a fuego lento surge la luz del día,
el amor, el aroma de una niebla lejana
y calle a calle vuelve la ciudad sin banderas
a palpitar tal vez y a vivir en el humo.


Horas de ayer cruzadas por el hilo
de una vida como por una aguja sangrienta
entre las decisiones sin cesar derribadas,
el infinito golpe del mar y de la duda
y la palpitación del cielo y sus jazmines.


Quién soy Aquél? Aquel que no sabía
sonreír, y de puro enlutado moría?
Aquel que el cascabel y el clavel de la fiesta
sostuvo derrocando la cátedra del frío?


Es tarde, tarde. Y sigo. Sigo con un ejemplo
tras otro, sin saber cuál es la moraleja,
porque de tantas vidas que tuve estoy ausente
y soy, a la vez soy aquel hombre que fui.


Tal vez es éste el fin, la verdad misteriosa.


La vida, la continua sucesión de un vacío
que de día y de sombra llenaban esta copa
y el fulgor fue enterrado como un antiguo príncipe
en su propia mortaja de mineral enfermo,
hasta que tan tardíos ya somos, que no somos:
ser y no ser resultan ser la vida.


De lo que fui no tengo sino estas marcas crueles,
porque aquellos dolores confirman mi existencia."
-Pablo Neruda