I said I was tired of life

That some days were not so bad

But others were too much

And this voice inside my head

Started up

Said Don’t you live in Colombia?

I said yes

It said are you tired of all that

Green grass growing there?

Have you seen the ever-brown

Sahara Desert nations?

I said No, it’s beautiful,

Our grass is beautiful

The voice then asked if I

Was tired of seeing babies’ faces,

Of looking at baby animals

In general

No, I said. Their faces are

All so lovely and I adore

Baby animals and their charm

The voice asked if I had work,

Clothes, a roof over my head,

Someone dear to share those

Things with

Yes, I said, yes, yes, and yes

Didn’t you get a grandson

Last year? The voice asked

Is he complete—arms, legs,

Feet, hands, normal in every

Aspect you can think of?

Yes, I answered

Are you also tired of him?

The voice continued

Would you like for him

To disappear? His mom, dad,

Other relatives of his?

No, I said, afraid now,

Afraid no, a stab of terror

Pierced my heart

Please, don’t let any of that

Happen, spare me!

But you are tired of life,

It said. What does it matter?

It does, I said. It matters greatly

Perhaps I was tired but now

That feeling is changing

I feel a little less tired now, I mean,

I want to live, I want my loved

Ones to live, laugh, love, play,

To work, to pray

The voice didn’t say anymore

After that

I waited, silently

No, nothing

Dark and quiet it got

I was still afraid

That fear was like an adhesive:

It took a long time

To budge then disappear.