Black Porcelain

She cries out for revenge,
The crystal doll
Cries out for the fixing of a crack,
But she does not know who has done it;
She was sleeping when her skin
Of porcelain was split.

A tear sprang up
From that crack;
It came up, flying through her hair
Just to stop in front of a black spider
Who was contemplating the spring
That emanated sorrow.

She opened her eyes,
She closed her little and tender
Hands to her checks,
She felt the lack of liveliness,
She felt a wound nearly opened.

Who has done this? She asked.
Who has dared to do this? She asked again.

A traveler of long leagues
And of short shoes stopped his walking
When he heard the crying of the
Doll.

Child, child, he said,
I do not know who has done this,
But I assure you that it has been somebody.
Try to see and hear,
Try to perceive and hate,
And then, perhaps, the wound
Will disappear from your sweet face.

The doll listened to the traveler’s voice
And saw with suspicion to that who in this way
Had talked to her. She started with the spider
Who remained by her side.

It has been you, she said,
It has been you who in the search
For bigger delicacies has broken
My skin to revenge
The colour of your aspect.

No, she said,
I am not guilty, but indeed
I envy your face,
The whiteness of your skin,
The smoothness of your stature.
I would never dare to do that,
I would never do it. In love
I have died more than one time
Between your hair, all in dreams,
All in illusions. In love
I have lived in your dresses,
And you were just sleeping.

The doll distrusted,
She felt the pain provoked by
That crack, she felt
The wrinkles of the broken porcelain,
She thought that she was guilty.

She thought of squashing her
With a single hit, of finishing her life
And, thus, she would get revenge.
But no, she did not know if she had
Done it, if she was truly guilty.

Come, she said, come tiny spider,
Never more in dreams you will remain
Among my hair or my dresses;
The reality is sweeter, it is more
Valuable than any of your fantasies
That in your life you have created.
Come, come little spider;
Love me while you are alive.

The spider doubted an instant,
Such is the reaction to
Sudden changes.
She saw her one time,
Two,
Three,
Four.
Finally, convinced,
She got closer to the doll
Who held her in her hands.

Never a dream has been
Compared with the reality;
Because the former always
Exceeds in details,
And the latter lacks
Mysteries.

The spider smiled
When she obtained what she had
Always desired; the doll looked at her
With reluctance, she hated her not because
Of her dreams, not because of her gaining,
But because of the wound that reflected
The sights in her face.

Go, go away, said the doll,
I do not need you anymore.
You have had what you wanted,
You have had your illusion,
I have sown it,
I have watered it,
Now it only remains to mow it
Just when it has bloomed.

The spider looked at her in confusion,
She did not understand her words,
Her sudden fury,
Her decision.

Go, go away now, she said.

Why? Asked the spider.

Do you love me? Answered the doll.

Yes, I do. Said the first.

That is what I needed.
Said the second.
You cannot destroy something
That was not well rooted.
I have built, I have constructed,
Now I obliterate.
The emptiness you feel,
Although it is not the same
As that I have,
Pleases me.

And she turned her head.

Since then, the doll has kept
Following her revenge.
All the beings around her,
Of any kind, have loved her,
And then they have suffered for
Her absence.

But she is not happy,
Actually she did not ask for it.
Sorrow is only paid by sorrow.
A tear that needs to feel accompanied.
And, meanwhile the doll tries to
Cure her wound,
A scratch appears on her white
Cheeks, on her pale forehead,
On her rosemary eyes.

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A crow appeared one day,
He was returning from his flight.
He had his wings covered with soot
Because he has mixed himself with the world
In order to know its principles.

When he arrived, he looked around
Trying to find the doll.
Time ago they were lovers,
A perpetual eclipse
That never wanted to be eternal.
When he left, he swore to love her
Forever, and she did the same.

He saw her sitting on her place,
With her face drowned in tears,
With her cheeks and her forehead and her eyes
Covered by thousands of threads,
Colour of pearls.

I am here, he said.

She looked at him with empty eyes;
Her lips were almost static,
But her heart, covered with
Annoyance and hate,
Shook itself for one moment.

I am here, he repeated.

She lowered her sight,
She did not want to see him.

What is wrong? He asked.

Why are you here? She said.

I promised to, he said,
I promised to be always by your side,
Now I am fulfilling it.

Go away, she muttered, go away, I have changed.
The one you loved once
Does not exist anymore. You are dead to me,
I have killed you.

The crow put down his breadth,
His black wings rested
On her black back. He sat down
By her side, he tried to take her face,
But she stopped him.

It is late, she repeated,
It is too late. Go away.

He was confused.

What has happened? He thought.

What has happened? He asked.

Finally, she raised her eyes,
A thin liquid membrane
Covered her dry sight.

Everything has happened. She answered.

And she lowered her eyes.

He noticed the scratches
On her face,
Each one, different from the others, belonged to
Each being that had been with her,
As if they were memories disposed
To remain forever.

I understand, he said.

You do not understand anything at all, she retorted.
You went away. You left me alone.
It has been a long time
Since the last time.
Go away. You have died to me.

He got closer
And hold with his wings
The doll’s hair;
A handful uncovered her skin.

I am not dead, he said.
I cannot believe you.

You are! She shouted.
You are dead to me,
There is nothing inside me,
But a distant beating,
Almost to disappear.

Is it because of me? Asked the black.

She moved away her face
From the wings of the crow.
She looked how her hair
Was falling down in little
Strands of pine.

Is it because of me? Asked the black. Again.

Yes. She whispered.

The crow smiled for an instant.
She raised her sight and only saw
That smile. A drop ran
On her cheeks. The spider had gone.

Go away. She asked.

I will not do it, whispered the crow
In her ear.

She moved him away.
His voice, so close,
Was too violent,
Too known,
Too loved.

Go away, she begged.

Is that what you want? He asked.

Yes. She said.

I cannot do it, he implored.
I do not want to do it. I do not want
To go away. I am here because of you.
I am here because of us.
I do not know what has happened,
And I do not ask for excuses
Nor explanations.
I am here because of you,
I am here because of us.

I have changed, said the doll.

You are the same that I knew, said the crow.
You are the same that I love.

I have been loved by many
Since then, she said.

And, have you loved them? Asked.

No, I have not, she answered. You are the only one.

And yet, he said, do you want me to go away?

Yes, she implored. Please, go away.

No, he cawed. I will never do it.
I need you. Forever.
It does not care what you have done.
I do not care and I do not want to listen it.
I only want to be with you.
Allow me to stay with you.

Do you, although everything that had happened?
She looked at him.

I do not care, he looked at her.

Two smiles appeared,
But only one remained.

I cannot accept you, whispered the porcelain.
I have changed. I am not anymore the one you loved.
I cannot love anymore, I cannot like anymore.
I will only hurt you.

Give me that option, said the feathers.

She raised her eyes.
The scratches on her skin
Showed themselves deeper,
Disturbing, testifying.

I do not want to hurt you. She whispered.
Go away. I do not want to hurt you.

And, what about if I do not want to? He implored.

You will hurt me. She finished.

The crow lowered his beak.
His eyes were looking at her,
But they did not feel her.

She observed the floor.
She felt every scratch on her face.
She felt all the memories
That they represented.
It was too much.

-------------------------------------------

He did not want to hurt her.

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An attic,
Some spread clothes,
Porcelain’s dust,
A black gargoyle shaped
As a crow.

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There will be never more essence of coconut.