En el Laberinto del Dolor

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"Long and white halls of anguish impassable, calm, serenity and silence disguising fear that floats in the air, a loose verse dedicated to oblivion in a narrow corridor of endless horizon is soundproof band that accompanies the pain"

In the Labyrinth of Pain.

If there is a place in the world of mortals where everyone form partnerships independently to race, sex, ideology and social status is without doubt the waiting rooms of hospitals of any city on the planet, a place where all people feel fear, anguish and capsize while waiting for news of a loved subject to intervention , in the waiting rooms of any hospital in the world, we are all just as defenseless against suffering, doom and misfortune.

Those were my thoughts as he toured a labyrinth of corridors that seemed to have no end and where were emerging all those people dressed in white who are dedicated to care, to accompany, to alleviate suffering and to try to save the life of who are sick.

Uncertainty overshadowed the sad thoughts and myself to find that unit dedicated to reading that tends to be in almost all public or private clinics, I imagine John asking a nurse by the reading room, I glimpsed him nervous and worried by uncertainty and could appreciate sharply on their factions relax find a work of Susan Sontag devoted to pain. I could also see the shadow of Abraham Méndez Ramos write his posthumous letter, the soul of Mireia fighting for his life in a room of the clinic may, I heard my father's dying voice pronouncing my name and I could feel the helplessness of Huete sliding walls and ceilings of that unsettling maze.

And was at that time when entering those hanging books I found a small tale of Cortázar dedicated to “Cronopio“, while he picked it and reread the beginning could feel as worn heart was beating in a harmonious and serene way and how in my tired mind was emerging gradually calm, temperance and peace.

The death, misery and disease are never associated to our loved ones, we see him always in our neighbour live or delayed, when you are witnesses the pain, torture and death as something natural and everyday stop being innocent and we become accomplices of torture, crime, the derision and global poverty. In the same way that those frenzied masses of German global citizens became accomplices in all the crimes of Nazism today we become complicit in any massacre in any place on the planet, and the agonizing death of these thousands of refugees than as tiny galapagos trying to reach the coasts of a sickly Europe.

As I walk I think my father and all those things that I could never tell and of how she left without power because of that wicked, psychotic and cizanera mob now hug me both it is abundant on Earth, I also think of Mireia and I wonder, what is it?, I think Herve Guibert and his agonizing questions at a clinic in Paris, and while the outside cold air brings to my mind the broken image of Susan Sontag death-defying a deadly Mirage is eating my body large doses of fortress, defiance and fortitude , we all have to die someday, but away from the pain and never in spring.

In the narrow and dark corridors through which passes the life and death there are souls who suffer and other souls who enjoy, there are beings who die with resignation, with humility and in peace and those who die cursing and inoculating poison.

Today the euthanasia law is necessary and urgent to regulate so that persons wishing to do so could die when they want to in a dignified manner, euthanasia is a right and not an obligation, those opposed to the regulation of the law have no why it is used. That is why I argue for decades by a law governing the right of the people to die without suffering, a la carte and painless added to the old Act of dying.

Reality and truth are never sad, what they don't have is never a different reading, thinking about death hurts but does not cause depression, prepares us for the imminent and teaches us to appreciate life without selfishness, with enthusiasm and it injected into the heart a serum of vital hope for life.

I would like to thank the Spirit of Susan Sontag for giving me inspiration, Poetry E Train by contemplating me as a Poet, also to all the poets who share their inspiration on the Web and in particular...I want to remind all those people who suffer from a painful disease.

When you have overcome all lobbies successfully and will have jumped all the barriers that we move away from disease, suffering and death, in a corner of the maze of pain he assails the worst disease, we find ourselves faced with the decrepitude of old age which leads us to the most luminous life part or the darkness of death.

Daily miseries never affect a noble heart that dies, forgiveness is not easy, but much more difficult is to love those who hate us, or who simply don't want us to.

Within the labyrinth of pain lives are going and other lives are emotions and gestures are magnified, nothing changes under the Sun, anger, envy, the war and anger are perpetuated among an older generation and other next generación, but also... friendship, harmony, nobility and love leave their mark, inside the labyrinth of pain after the calm comes the storm and the light becomes darker and eternal night.

A letter dedicated to A. G. A, the pain makes us human, makes us strong and always leads to the maturity of the soul.

In life, there are sweet moments, but there are also very difficult to digest bitter drinks.

In the labyrinth of pain,

The reason is uncertainty,

the grudge of sorrow and

Love becomes anger.

In the labyrinth of pain,

The truth is firm and steady,

The calm delirious and,

Decomposes the inner.

There is no peace or calm,

Lucidity nor temperance,

On the streets of pain.

There is no light or palm,

Horizon or hope,

In the soils of the pain.

There is a lack and,

Longing,

Tragedy and,

Nostalgia,

blurring,

The reason.

There is no peace or calm,

Lucidity nor temperance,

On the streets of pain.

In the labyrinth of main,

The reason is uncertainty,

the grudge of sorrow and

The pain becomes anger.

Lucas Lazar. Telling Stories.

"What is true just to patent everything he feels inside. Develop differences and perceived nuances is the task of those who live for the first time...The task of remembering is imposed to the ask for absolution. Living is, therefore, to be sentenced and have somehow prevented the execution of the sentence. A judgment without conviction or a conviction without punishment"

Susan Sontag. Case of Death.

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