¿Cómo no extrañar aquella mirada fija?
Sus ojos se perdían en los mios,
Cada vez que yo la miraba.

Se reía cada vez que le hablaba,
Con que ternura me hablaban sus ojos,
Cada vez que la veía.

Me contaba historias,
Se reía del mundo
Y después lo mejoraba con sus ideas.

¿Cuánto tiempo dura una caricia?

No tanto como el olvido.

¿Qué tanto nos dura un recuerdo?
¿Será mejor recordar o perder la memoria?

A lo lejos alguien espera,
A lo lejos alguien sueña
Con que nos juntemos
Y sea todo como esos recuerdos.

Te pido Dios


A Dios le ruego,
Que me de gracia y favor cada día,
Para abrir los ojos.

Que me aleje de los falsos profetas,
Que no me consuma el dinero,
Que mis actos sean sinceros,
Que se deshaga la iglesia falsa.

Te pido Dios,
Que se quede tu espíritu,
Y que las instituciones no nos cieguen.

Alaban y piden dinero,
Haciendo falsas promesas,
Matando al pueblo ignorante.

¡Te pido Dios…
Que nos eduques a todos!

I Haven’t Written in a While


Tis very true… I have not written anything for a while. For a moment I was depressed, I thought of my writing as not being good enough. I wanted to express so much, and I was lost for words. I thought of resignation, but that did not seem so courageous, so here I am venturing out on a new path, with new ambitions.

My writing has definitely changed over the course of the years, after hearing some criticisms of my writings, Spanish readers told me my English writing was far superior than that of my Spanish writing.

As you can imagine, this was something painful to hear. Everything I did was in Spanish and the majority of things that run through my mind are in Spanish, thus why I even refused to write in English during my first years as a young writer. I thought of it as an insult to my culture, my heritage and my first language. I didn’t think I would end up writing in English, but here I am and honestly I am unashamed by this fact now. I will still write in Spanish because I would like to immerse in that beautiful language, but I can’t deny my love for the English language.

I can’t escape it. As a 12 year old living in Guatemala, I would listen punk rock in hopes of grasping a better sense of that foreign language, and by the time I finally got to the US English, was something I rejected. In some part, I was reacting to a change, a culture shock, coming from upper class Guatemala to nothing in the US was something that completely changed my heart and my mind. It took me years to recover from that nostalgia and another psychological traumas that I endured, but I will write about that on another blog post.

Writing is something, that gives me life. The concept of creating a new world based on words gave me thrills, and excitement, until I started doing it for selfish reasons. On that instant when I realized that what I needed to write, needed to be heartfelt I think everything changed. I am no longer interested in creating stuff so people can admire me or praise me. I want to tell stories and I want honest criticism, because I will simply like to get better at what I do, everything else is secondary.

My trip to Guatemala helped me get in contact with my roots. Honestly I fell in love with my country again. After almost 12 years of not going back I had lost faith in ever going back, I was distraught by other things and my vision of going back seemed dismal. I even lost my Guatemalan ID on purpose because I thought I was never going back…. but oh boy was I wrong!


Going back made me realize how blessed I have been throughout my entire life. I realized I had many stories to write about, but needed to organize my thoughts. I know writing is a craft that needs to be repeated over and over in order to perfect it. I apologize to all my readers for my absence, but now I am back! Ready to write.