Step by Step...

Since people are slowly getting braver and braver when it comes to publish their texts, here is one of the texts that was written on the sessions of the group; hopefully this first text will make someone else willing to publish their own texts.

Step by step, my dears, step by step...

(Thanks to Ana for the pic, and to "the three of you" for pushing me up and down on the "see saw".)

...

Down the steps, young lady,

Down the steps!

He pushes me down the stairs

Drawing purple circles on my arm.

Down the steps, young lady,

Down the steps!

As he throws me at the narrow wooden boards

Of the long, almost endless staircase.

Slow down, slow down, old man,

P-l-e-a-s-e-s-l-o-w-d-o-w-n,

As my feet stumble on the screaming wood

That starts to crack under our feet.

From childhood, friends and foes,

From home, sand on toes,

From college, books I read,

From everywhere, people I mislead.

From a day ago, small lies I told,

From a time far away, lovers I’ll never hold,

From everywhere, faces and faces and faces of people I never met,

Each one of them for the steps I step…

On.

The man, old of course, loses his breath,

As we go half way through.

So I jump to the banister

And sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiideeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Passing through all the cracked steps

That have all my insides

Spattered all over them.

Going fast like this

The faces turn into a mix of eyes, nose and lips,

The books look like pages filled with scribbling,

The sand gets between my toes and tickles,

The last step that meets me halfway

Is nothing more than just a small line

Inviting me to get…

Off.

The man, pattering, holding tight to his chest

Appears as a tiny point on my sight:

Up the stairs, young lady!

Up the stairs!

As you know very well,

You’re cheating by speeding this up!

Besides, as the rules say,

One must do it all over and over again,

Until your legs are replaced by canes,

Your hair goes grey,

And there are no more steps for you to play.

On.

I kick the dirty doormat that sleeps by the last step

And as a worm, a bold, bright END comes from under the mat.

And as it tries to grab my feet

I’m already pacing, jumping steps in pairs,

With my calves hurting,

And my hair, still dark brown and thick, flowing,

While the old man falls behind,

Placing a mat over our end.