Poema De La Distancia Novels & Stories

Jack awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. He cleared his throat, and answered “Hello?” There was static on the line and after a long pause, there was a response. He could faintly hear someone through the static, but the voice seemed far away. He repeated a hello, and the voice responded. “Hello? Jack? Can you hear me?” It sounded like Catherine’s voice but she sounded far away still, like maybe she had the phone upside down or was distracted. Maybe it had been a pocket dial? Catherine continued through the breaking and static “Jack. Can’t….talk...long...I’ve been...Jack? Be careful...love you” Before he could respond, the call ended.

“Please forgive me Miss, but I don’t have the slightest idea. I just love how the moon shines so bright in the dark night.” ‘Why is that, Andreus?’ ‘Because it is distant.’ “Because it is distant.” No matter how much you desire to touch the moon, you can’t because it is far and distant. That is reality. There is no point in lingering anymore. Wherever they are, I only wish they find peace. “The night is slowly leaving, Miss. You should take your rest now.” I nodded and she pushed the chair slowly. After putting me to bed, the woman bid goodbye.

“But distance… has a strange way of sharpening awareness.” Leonard’s eyes darkened. “What are you aware of?” he asked. She swallowed. “That when you’re gone, I notice. And when you’re near… I pretend I don’t.” The air shifted. Leonard’s hand rested on the railing, inches from hers. “Aruna,” he said quietly, “distance is meant to create clarity.” She let out a small, humorless laugh. “Then why does it feel like confusion?” Their eyes met. For a moment, the world outside disappeared.

Then she goes back to the beginning and reads it again, slower, her lips moving slightly the way they move when she is receiving language she wants to keep. By the third stanza her face has changed. I do not look away. By the final couplet, she has put the poem down on the counter and put both hands flat beside it and is looking at the middle distance with the specific expression of someone who has been reached by something in a place they did not know was reachable.

Distant. Diego’s pupils darkened. He moved, trying to reach for her hand. She dodged. He caught only air. “What’s wrong?” he asked, breathing heavier. For some reason, it felt like he had never truly held her at all. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. “8:15,” she said softly, “Your gift has arrived.” Boom! In the distance, a sudden explosion lit the other port. Fire flared into the night sky. The flames reflected on the waves, painting the sea and heavens in crimson.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; .....

“Oh, Aurora... I don't know what's happening to me. Maybe it's these final weeks of pregnancy, but I feel like Eloá is drifting away from me. And not just physically. It's like there's a wall between us, you know?” Aurora moves closer and takes her friend's hands, listening carefully. “I understand. Sometimes when our children leave home, we think they're only far away... but there are certain distances we feel in our hearts. Talk to her, Dê. Even if she's distant, your love will always reach her.”

Hope that maybe temporary was enough. That maybe changing was okay. That maybe love could survive anything. Even separation. Even pain. Even the impossible distance between foundation and form. Maybe. Just maybe. Hope.

Because I have been listening to it since the moment we stopped moving—tracking the rhythm of it, measuring the space between each inhale, each exhale, calculating how long his body could sustain itself before the silver inside him began to win. It is winning now. Slowly. But undeniably. I don’t move at first. I remain where I am, near the far wall, holding onto the distance I created earlier as if it still means something. Because distance has always been my advantage. Distance is how I survive. Distance is how I leave. Distance is how I forget. Rowan shifts slightly on the crate, his hand tightening against his side again as a sharper breath escapes him before he can stop it. His control i

The melody was full of hope and inspiration, and the rhythm fit in surprisingly well with the words of the poem. “In the stillness of the night, In the distance, there’s a light. The horizon’s brightly shining Its luminous glow blinding Why's the sun shining so bright? Because it is with all its might, Trying to conceal Del Cealus from us, But I’ll soon be there to set the people free As long as the sunlight never dims. I will now sail through the sky; Soon Del Cealus shall be found And be brought down from up high I’m taking along with me