"Reflections" by MSIH first year blogger Jensen Reckhow

When I can’t find the words in English, I write in Spanish:

No entiendo la muerte.
La he visto, la he sentido, la he tocado.
Conozco la muerte como al primo
que viaja por todo el mundo
y regresa
una vez cada pocos años
Pero todavía no entiendo.

Cuando era joven mi abuela murió
y no entendí.
Vi la tristeza, el miedo, la soledad
Me sentí triste
pero también tuve hambre—
Habían distracciones.

Cada año que pasaba fortalecía mis raíces
creciendo desde dentro y fuera de mi gente
así que con cada pérdida
perdí un pedazo de mi misma
y de eso no hay distracciones.

Yo conozco la muerte lenta,
que se desarolla al aire libre
Obstinada, segura, honesta.

También conozco la muerte que viene de repente,
la muerte que se roba a tu amor
durante una tarde tranquila.

Yo conozco el peso que crece dentro de la garganta
Cada vez se funde,
uniéndose a los demás
para que pueda volver a mi corazón
cuando estoy sola.

Entonces, hoy,
mientras me siento la muerte fresca
siento todo de nuevo,
no porque cada muerte se sienta igual
pero porque cada muerte es su propio abismo
y yo conozco cómo se siente
ver el fondo
y también
levantar la vista
y ver el sol otra vez.


Rest in peace, Dr. Vardy. 

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