Thursday, September 27, 2018

POEM IN PROSA ON THE TOENAIL

         POEM IN PROSA ON THE TOENAIL


    I have read a lot of poetry about love to divine eyes, long shiny hair, breasts that awaken desire to delicate hands that invite the kiss.
   But never a poem dedicated to the toenails , especially of the big toes.
   Yesterday the nail of the big toe of my right foot came off completely and without pain.
   Dear toenail, you helped me to walk the way, to kick my enemies, you are no longer with me. You said goodbye at night without pain, silent, as you had always lived.
  Nail of the soul. God's creation. Why have you left without telling me?
  Pablo Neruda wrote a phrase:
  "I love your toenails because they walked on the earth and on the wind and on the water, until they found me"

         And Gabriela Mistral also wrote:

   "Little toenails of child's feet,
     Two suffering jewels,
     How they pass without seeing the people!
      
    Two poems that mention the helmets that we have on our feet and that we almost always forget to take care of and love them.
   Days ago, in the consultation, while I waited my turn, many adults and elderly people held this conversation:
   -Well, I have a grade III heart disease and I take such medications ...
      And an old man continued:
  -Well, I'm worse. I have atrophy of the head of the femur and they prepare me for a prosthesis-
  And another woman jumped who did not want to be left behind.
   -I have hypothyroidism, edema of the legs and obesity. I do not know what you are going to do with me.
  -And you Lord? - this question was addressed to me.
   I stand up and say angryly:
    -Well, a Cuban jinetera hit me with a gonorrhea of which there is no antibiotic to save me.
     And I went to the garden of the hospital. I could not stand those diseases more than people competed which was the most serious they had. They needed to see a coffin to make them see reason.
  Already in the portal of the hospital the guard, who already knew me, told me:
  _-Mr. The insulin has already been put on.
   -YES. And I am very serious. It was put intravenously.
  - Ah. Then, You are in good hands.
   I went almost crazy from there. I already felt corpse.
   _ What you have is Diabetic Neuropathy.- Said the doctor.
      That mania of doctors to name diseases everywhere. Strange names that even the simple people already know: Crohn's disease, Posttraumatic Synapses, etc.
  That is why patients already master their pathologies even if they do not know exactly what they owe. And the placebo effect is in good hands although doctors do as they know and know very little.
  But returning to my nail of the big toe, which unhesitatingly came off on a spring night leaving the raw nail bed. But I'm not complaining. Men do not cry for a lost nail, they make poems.
  I picked up the nail. Large and with signs of trophism, I placed it in a glass next to the TV to remember later, which was the first part of my body that went away and left me alone, like Buddha's nails that say they grew like claws, Nobody cut them, He was in ilumination,   did not want anything in the world.
                                                     Orlando Vicente Álvarez

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more,see 

https://www.amazon.es/Libros-Orlando-Alvarez/s?ie=UTF8&page=1&rh=n%3A599364031%2Cp_27%3AOrlando%20Alvarez






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