occurred in the winter of 2004. I got my hands (as is generally well I have the hidden designs) a copy of "Cielo de Tambores" Ana Gloria Moya . The exquisite style of the writer at that time unknown to me, was transformed before my eyes picky reader, in a challenging tangle to unravel for enjoyment. The accurate power to touch the deepest fiber of being is a rare talent that many writers , even with false humility and covertly, arrogate to themselves. Ana Gloria Moya, brilliant writer, had shot my perception an accurate dart refreshing and new sensations.
aware that the approach of nouvelle Historical often not empathize with the usual suspense, unexpected turns into deadly arguments lines, and other characteristics of the novel is written now (and that TODAY, tell them and empty time) I went into the story. With deep emotions, experiences subtle elements of magical realism suggested, as well as a unique sensory possible in pens and ink that have tasted our Latin America.
In the account in question, in the fabric moist with dew of life, discovered an imaginary character which freed me great energy charge.
Moya tells us that Mary Kumba, described as an incredibly swollen mulatto "fire and courage" in the tumultuous Buenos Aires of the May Revolution, meets Manuel Belgrano and becomes her guardian angel, giving him forever his heart. Their magic herbs, invaluable heritage of their race, their consolations of midwives throbbing, exquisite sensuality, beauty and youth, mad men of the campaigns of Alto Paraguay and Peru, and the catapult essential womanhood, fend everyday life and the devastation that could consolidate hostile environment. Amada, literal or platonic by one or the other, the owner of the Skin "hot chocolate" - as Moya puts into the mouth of one of the men who want - control of blood is shed, the passion, ambition and the first cries of freedom of a land to which its ancestors would never have identified as destination for their lives.
The exquisite sensuality with which the author created and presented to the heroic war of independence, inspired by my one of the poems that were selected for inclusion in the 2007 Anthology of poetry and narrative, "wrote Latin America " Editions alternate root. After Serme statement that the jury will with regard to my eight written submissions, was to include everyone, I decided to, talk with the director of the editorial, published just seven. Of course, I left out that letter. Not if the last-minute outburst was supported by the extreme inner strength that I printed the poem, or oddly, by a discrete selfishness, an almost childlike imprisonment of the ode. Anyway, do not join the rest. The cajoneo was natural, then it was forgotten.
Today, I dug up a back up not premeditated. I went back to reading. Perceived in him (see I do not say 'this' but 'he') anger, carefree, sex, melancholy and arguably a blast boundless love.
I can not believe that a text of his own volition banished me up so much on this night unexpectedly. Undoubtedly
Mary Kumba did not exist, but believe me that I perceived, felt his courage and presence, its heavy economic and tangible, eternal now. Among the ghosts that haunt us to the demiurge of letters, often appearing disembodied forms do not always coincide with our desires. There syncretic individuals in the world of literature to ensure that writers do not create the characters, but they, from this side very much ours, we seek and we choose to give them life. Perhaps
Mary Kumba, from visionary sky from its limb mask, has drummed on the heart of Ana Gloria Moya, for it to blow in the form of the immortal flame of the beautiful story he conceived. Not if it was, but I do, I can sense it. I was
own initiative, would never have arrived at their history, to her, her dramatic reality so far from my intention to literary taste, but here I am, paying tribute to a fictional character in historical fiction that, believe me , would be deserved. Thanks
Ana Gloria Moya.
This is simply a card of love in words.
This poem for women copper is based on confessions passion of the character of Gregory Rivas, Tucuman fierce fighter, a lover and defender of the mulatto, the enemy of Belgrano, but submissive to his leadership, both real and the metaphysical. Gregory, crazy for this daughter of two skins, in the tumult gritty of those early days of the motherland, love and drink the nectar of his muse, as a way to survive among such undying madness.
Anyway, here is Mary Kumba. Hopefully
could see, as I still keep seeing.
Poem for women copper
I want to sign in blood that I wish I could not touch you,
not graze again in your
Honduras,
but ephemeral lunar cycle back to succumb
your wild aroma.
blood I sign my soul mortgage hopeless, so
not fall under the spell of thy womb explicit
wild.
But I can not and I return to form in the regions virgin
and warn you again in the wound of my yesterdays
and smell you in my trembling and my sprays,
and the dawn of my desires,
and in the twilight of my defeats,
where your smile evoking
that skims the dark,
you sleep, you
and reinvented,
forever.
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