The man who loves me

This is a very special poetry to me, maybe the best Gioconda Belli’s one, I kept it hidden like a talisman, now it’s time to share. It’s very special, unique, I hope it will be the same for you, From heart to heart


The man who loves me should know how to part curtains
of flesh
Fathom my eye’s depths
And know that in me nestles
A tender, transparent swallow.


The man who loves me
Will not covet me like a commodity
Nor exhibit me like a sportsman’s trophy
He will stand by me
Loving me just as I love and stand by him.


The man who loves me
Will be strong as the ceibo trees
Solid and sheltering as they are,
Clear as a December morning.


The man who loves me
Will not distrust my smile
Nor fear my hair’s profusion.
He will respect sorrow, silence.
And with caresses, he will play upon my stomach,
As on a guitar, making pleasure issue from
my body’s recesses.


The man who loves me
Will discover I can be
A hammock on which to rest his burdens and cares.
A friend with whom to share intimate secrets.
A lake on which to float,
Without fear that the anchor of his commitment
Will prevent flight
Should it occur to him to be a bird.


The man who loves me
Will make poetry of his life
Structuring each day
With his gaze set on the future


But above all else
The man who loves me must love people
Not as some abstract category
Mentioned carelessly
But as something real, concrete
To whom one show devotion through actions
Giving up one’s life if required.


The man who loves me
Will recognize my face in the midst of a battle
And with knee bent to the earth,
he will love me
As the two of us fire together at the enemy.


My man in love
Will not fear giving himself
Nor fear finding himself magically smitten.
In a plaza filled with great crowds,
He will be able to shout “I Love You”
Or make extravagant announcements on top of buildings
Proclaiming his right to feel
The most beautiful and human emotion.


My man in love
Will not flee kitchens
Nor the diapers of our child
His love will be like a refreshing breeze
Carrying away among mists of dream and the past
Weakness that, for centuries kept us divided,
As beings of different worth.


My man in love
Will not want to stereotype and standardize me
He will give me air, space
Nourishment to grow and improve
Like a revolution
Which makes each new day
The beginning of a new victory.

Autore: ondarmonica


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