By Patricia Lezama
Here goes the passerby, weary from little sleep
Struggling to walk, striving to count her steps
She wants to be inspired, to see the beauty of the green gardens in a sunny and blooming spring
She recognizes that balcony, for she has passed by these many cobwebs before
There’s the same new broom resting against the same wall, motionless, they listen to the spiders weave each night a little more in the corner of the ceiling
A lamp blackened with soot and neglect, which once shed light, hangs like a forlorn lover
The cobwebs that were woven with imperceptible threads to catch sustenance, are now dense veils that tarnish the once fresh white corners
There’s another balcony above this one, holding several autumns’ worth of accumulated detritus
Dry leaves pile up on the railing, thirsty for rain they soak placidly, fecund they remain moistening the wood
One day someone stepped out onto that balcony on the first floor and perhaps thought to improve it
They bought that broom, with a head as full of cobwebs as their balcony, they decided to go inside and continue with their battles,
“When it’s less cold outside, I’ll clean,” they said.
Several mornings passed until the radiant, warm, and abrasive sun arrived
With the intention of inviting people over, the tenant went out to the balcony, took the dusty broom, looked at the ceiling, where the second-floor balcony, hovered above rotting, the beginning of collapse
Anger crept in, pushing aside the broom to start complaints
There are no good neighbors anymore, nor good building managers, claims are made, but no one listens, just as no one comes to visit those balconies, only the passage of time and forgetfulness keep them
When they restore the balconies, new decisions will come, say the neighbors, while the administrators delay repairs, prioritizing other duties
The costumed children arrive, peeking at the balcony, organic decorations, they demand their candies and leave singing cheerfully and happily.
When December comes with its lights and festivities
Changes are announced with purposes and purges
But trips and gatherings from outside arrive
Spring comes without warning, laden with pollen and more reasons to do the cleaning
The passerby continues her steps
Preferring that balcony with stacked ¨maybe later¨
than one occupied by so many objects, where space alone delays the stories.
With excessive or few things
Ultimately, it is motivation that thrusts
A movement, small and certain like these steps
bringing one after the other some meaning.
And there remains the broom undisturbed
Posing shyly for the camera that spies upon it
capturing the tales that linger in the corner.
Thanks to the review and collaboration to Melanie Reynolds!
The Nature-led Life 