LITERATURE

A space dedicated to lovers of literature in all its forms.

Voces que transforman Charlotte: Fragmentos

Los fragmentos presentados en este espacio forman parte de una antología comunitaria bilingüe impulsada por Irlanda Ruiz Aguirre y HabilidadX en Charlotte, Carolina del Norte. El proyecto ha sido construido a través de talleres guiados de escritura y edición, donde las historias surgen de las experiencias reales de integrantes de la comunidad latina.

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Serial: Chapter 5

As her breathing returned to its natural rhythm, she made her way to the small sofa in front of the TV, where Mariana was sitting, laughing heartily.

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I'm not afraid of death

“A turbulent sea, a silent witness to a passionate love” … Fugitives, madmen, prisoners of the fury of a thousand volcanoes. A thousand intoxicating volcanoes, all burning with a single flame, growing, expanding…

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The defeat

I’ve always had a knack for losing. I don’t deny this natural inclination of mine. Over time, I’ve learned to accept it with grace, with a certain dignity. Defeat suits me just as well as red or blue suits others.

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The Fall of the International

I moved to Clinton, South Carolina, in August 2018. Before that, I had lived in Columbia, the state capital, for eight years. Columbia is a medium-sized city. It’s a quiet place, but I wouldn’t call it boring. It has a couple of little coffee shops that I miss and a couple of bars that…

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WITNESS

“A turbulent sea, a silent witness to a passionate love” … Fugitives, madmen, prisoners of the fury of a thousand volcanoes. A thousand intoxicating volcanoes, all burning with a single flame, growing, expanding…

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I miss you

I miss you the way one misses a shadow that was never quite real. It’s absurd to miss you, since I barely know you, and yet you’re lodged inside me like a secret that refuses to die.

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Resistance 

I heard a whistle. I heard a car horn. I heard people shouting: "Close the door. Stay inside. They're here."

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Serial: Chapter 4

Marielita didn’t know it yet, but from that moment on, she would no longer be needed. “That’s just the way life is,” Ángel told her, and he carried on as if nothing had happened, as if it didn’t hurt him—though deep down he felt a slight twinge that he refused to share with Marielita because vulnerability wasn’t something…

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INLAND ISLAND

I'm from a small island

where people still dance traditional dances and plena,

and we say "Oh, blessed one" when we feel sorry for someone,

the beloved homeland where our cultural diversity sets us apart.

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The meeting

It was December 24, 2186. I was lying in my old bed, alone in my room with white walls and duralumin furniture. In the distance, I could hear the sound of fireworks and the hubbub of people celebrating Christmas with their families. This was going to be my last night…

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Sickeningly sentimental

It’s not like I’m falling in love; I just want you to do me no good, and you look like you could.

Arctic Monkeys, “No. 1 Party Anthem”

By Juan David Cruz Duarte

I

A journalist once told Jorge Luis Borges that some people accused him of being a cold man. Borges, in…

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Ground wire

By Edgar Larrea

Hate me, for pity's sake, I beg you; hate me without limit or mercy

I’d rather hate than be indifferent… because resentment hurts less than being forgotten.

Julio Jaramillo, “Hate Me”

My first semester at a graduate school in this country had quickly taught me that I was going to need much more time and (above all…

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"Untitled"

By Elvi Jardines

This absurd moment in history 

It will certainly remain etched in my memory 

Shrouded in a veil of sadness 

And walled in by rage, frustration, and unease 

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Serial: Chapter 2

Their wedding day was only somewhat memorable. A pleasant memory for him, but one that could have been better for her. Too many avoidable mistakes.

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Childhood: Between Dreams and Reality

By Ernesto Hernández Under Mexico’s vast, brilliant skies, life danced in colors from morning to night. Sun-kissed cobblestone streets echoed with the laughter of children playing.

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The Twilight of the Gods

Then I began to feel it again: the crushing weight of loneliness. It wasn’t a deep pain, nor was it constant suffering. It was, perhaps, a strange uneasiness, a weary and sad restlessness that kept me awake at night.

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Teresa's Tears

When Teresa was born, silence filled the room. She didn’t cry. There was no shrill cry to announce her arrival into the world. Only her tiny, slippery body, covered in blood and placenta, lay there, motionless, as if the weight of life had fallen upon her too soon.

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Serial: Chapter 3

Let’s talk about betrayal. About transgression. About the breaking of trust. Let’s talk about Ángel. Ángel was tall, but not too tall; strong, but not excessively strong; and handsome, but not overly so. What he was, though, was a compulsive liar.

ROUTINE FALLACIES

Boredom and anger are just around the corner,

they accompany each other intermittently;

That's the price you pay for being aware. 

While in the stands everything seems like a farce,

a cheap, poorly acted play.


There is no such thing as reality—
, only our perception of it.
John Doe,Philosophical Idealism: An Introduction

The Way Home

By Juan David Cruz Duarte

One afternoon, darker than the others, as she read a novel she had just bought at a bookstore downtown, another violent storm broke out over the city. After the shipwreck, stormy afternoons would make her cry in silence.

By Loli Molina
M. pren. A literary article, novel, or other work published in installments in a special section of newspapers. A sensational novel of little literary value. Vox 1 Encyclopedic Dictionary. © 2009 Larousse Editorial, S.L.



MARIELITA'S BETRAYAL
Chapter 1

Serial: Chapter 1

Eat more protein, fewer carbs, and more fiber. Cut out all sugar and alcohol, drink two liters of water, and get at least seven hours of sleep a day. At least I was trying…

By Irlanda Ruiz Aguirre

LET ME BE

Let me be a torn leaf, captured on a canvas,  

without roots, without ego, without end, or beginning.

By Sandra Santana

Relief

May my voice not falter,

so my throat doesn't tighten up.

A Tanka

I'm writing a tanka

Recalling the past

And your smile,

He leaves in the summer

And your memory dies.

By Juan David Cruz Duarte

Don’t you see that the world is turned upside down
when you look into those videotape eyes?
Charly García, “Ojos de videotape”

VHS

I’m hopelessly nostalgic. I’m a bit like the guy in the joke who walks into a café and approaches a group of people sitting at a table. The man asks them, somewhat shyly, “Excuse me, is this the Nostalgic Club?”

All the flies

A piercing, irritating light, a light that taints everything and covers the sky with a reddish hue. The light disturbs the universe, vibrates in my chest, clings to my skin like sweat, like the remnants of an old, musty, warm dampness. Everything glows, and the glow is unbearable: red, red, red.

HOME, SWEET HOME

By Irlanda Ruiz Aguirre “Where is your home?” was the question that got me thinking. And even though we all live in the Queen City (a nickname for Charlotte, North Carolina), everyone’s answer was different. My fellow Puerto Rican said, “Puerto Rico,” while I said, “Charlotte,” even though I’ve only been here a few years. Others mentioned Florida, Bogotá,…

Metamorphosis

Your eyes carry the light that suddenly bursts into my gloomy world. Like a giant star, you fall into every dark corner of mine. You make my ashen arms reach out toward the laborious day and shine, and my numb feet stir to life and become a path.

Prisca Dorcas: Vulnerability and Strength in Spanish

“For Strong Girls with Tender Hearts and Cinnamon-Colored Skin” is the Spanish title of Prisca Dorcas Mojica Rodriguez’s first book, originally published in English in 2021; this translation is intended for a very special audience…

Together

I want to build a bridge from my heart to yours and have the courage to share in your pain, to laugh when you laugh, to never judge you, and to accept your opinion even if it differs from mine. And when I make a mistake, I want to be able to say I’m sorry, and when you hurt me, I want to be able to forgive you.

Crossing the Pond

Pack your bags, book a flight

We hug and say goodbye.

We take a long walk around the Island of Enchantment

and we silence the voice of despair.

On thinking about love (together); when old age comes.

By Pedro Mieles Cantos An attempt at a hybrid essay on the subject of love. Thank you for so much, Valeria. It’s cold tonight. It looks like it’s going to rain for the rest of the night, and as I hear the raindrops hitting the metal of the emergency handrails, I hear Valeria’s voice over the cell phone…

[YOU'LL SEE ME]

you'll see me from the window of

your beautiful, elegant home

as I walk

chasing dog

squirrels looking for

nuts to hide

                                    low

                                             earth

Short poems

Since poetry is everywhere, it is the perfect way to give, receive, and inspire love.

Grief 

Your stay has come to an end

And I stood motionless as you left

I said goodbye to you, but there was no farewell

You left quietly, peacefully…

FALL

By Irlanda Ruiz-Aguirre Today, the leaves along the path are tinged with shades of yellow, orange, and burgundy; they transform and grow more beautiful in a shy yet solemn way. Autumn makes its entrance, showing itself off without restraint—both in the afternoon and the morning, in the city, on the plains, and in the mountains. A new season arrives, and with joy…

Five Haikus 

5

Beautiful deserts

a life full of thorns

rocks and sand

Nelly Tamez's book: The Transformation of the Farm

I’m going to start this article by telling a new story. The story of Nelly Tamez, a Mexican woman with a deep sense of connection to her Mexican roots, to her essence, and to her literature…

in a foreign land

For Loli Molina, returning to Spain always has a touch of a copla, of nostalgia

a veil of oblivion, imposed like a bandage that heals the pains left behind in the corners. To Concha Piquer and Estrellita Castro

singing of the deepest sorrows of exile, which is now called

Metamorphosis

By Jesus Redondo

A creature of mountains, valleys, gorges, and the weeping of springs, bark carved half a century ago—how much those dreams have changed, the ones you never managed to sketch with native strokes

The Effect

By Piero Milesi

I had been invited to an art gallery in eastern New York City. I didn’t have much money on me, but I hadn’t been able to leave the house since the pandemic began. I told Estefanía, an old friend, about the exhibition. She said she’d be there around nine o’clock that night.

The Art of Missing You

By Andrea Bredar

The art of missing you, when viewed within the context of time and space, transforms from a simple rhyme into a meticulous craft, in which I have spent over a decade crafting intricate labyrinths for you to wander through, between my waking mind and my dreams.

 Come on, Prieta! 

Yasmín Ramírez delights and entertains us with her new book, ¡Ándale, Prieta!. In a conversation with VozEs, we gained insight into her creative process as she wrote a memoir inspired by “Ita,” the nickname she uses for “Grandma”…

THE TREE

Carmela planted the tree on the very day she found out she was pregnant with her first child, whom she would name Antonio, after his father.

THE EXODUS

On February 6, 1937, the cold and damp—in the form of Franco’s troops and their allies—surrounded the city of Málaga like a gigantic wave about to engulf everything. My grandfather Rafael, from whom I inherited a love of antique desks, poetry, and delicate seashells, told me a long time ago…

The Roots of Teotihuacán 

As we approached the city of Teotihuacán, I could see the iconic eagles flying above our car and the beautiful pyramids on the horizon. My brother and I eagerly got out of the car, drawn by the enchanting scent of marigolds.

WHEN YOU LOSE A MOTHER

When you lose a mother, you lose the one who brought you into the world

to your goddess

the beautiful home where you took refuge during those months of transformation

a life in sync with its heartbeat

spiritual unity

PAUSE

A moment to reflect,

a moment to pause and observe.

A moment of silence,

in that insistent moment,

of incoherent apathy, 

Under the Same Moon

It’s been more than seven years since we decided to fly under the radar, skimming just above the ground, cheating fate, searching for a visa to make a dream come true. And ever since then, we’ve been eating grapes from afar, stepping outside the confines of crowded squares filled with fellow countrymen watching the clock on the other side of the pond.

OF STREETS AND WAITING

By José G. Vázquez

Of streets that end where the night begins,

of waiting, which the very act of waiting makes seem eternal,

those are the days that stretch into months

and with that look

DAUGHTERS OF THE MOON

By Loli Molina

intermittent: adj. Suffering from madness, not continuously, but at intervals.

We are the ones who open the doors so that those who were left out can come in

Accents, dialects, and fanfares from a thousand and one languages flow through our veins

Essential

"I'm looking for a job," he shouted in the bar. "I'm looking for a job," he posted on social media. "I'm looking for a job in the countryside or the city." And he found a job before he woke up…

My life is a circle (that keeps moving forward)

By Jesus Redondo My life is a circle that never stands still, that is not a copy of anything. My life is a circle that moves forward. My life is a circle of mornings reflecting the moon, for the day has not yet broken, accumulating steps on my wrist. My life is a circle of journeys…

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

Sometimes, the best thing you can do is the hardest: Saying goodbye, Letting go, Holding their little head in the palm of your hands As their spirit begins to leave, But staying behind To make sure that you…

WE COME TO YOU

By Kurma Murrain We move in every direction Driven by Boreas, Zephyrus, Notus, and Eurus Carried by the clouds we see in our dreams We move like leaves following the seasons Fading away in winter Crackling within us…

Anise-flavored doughnuts

By Loli Molina The smell of freshly baked anise-flavored doughnuts filled the air in the courtyard of Block One, the one next to the highway, behind the school, and across from the old vacant lot that had once been a sugarcane field. The neighborhood was never really the countryside, but it was enough to…

FIVE FAKE SUNDAY HAIKUS: A PRELUDE TO SUMMER

(1) When I wake up, all the silence in the world lies at my bare feet. (2) The trees, almost shameless, drape their branches over strangers’ shoulders. 

AMERICA THROUGH A GIRL'S EYES

America touched everything with its white stars and red stripes. My childhood awakened to music with unrecognizable words that stirred our hearts…

AGAIN

Let's not run out of time before I tell you that the water is overflowing here…

A tribute to Marilyn Monroe

O God, Creator! To you, who fashioned this majestic creature, I lift up my prayer…

SINISTER SHADOW

They are faded souls With bodies scorched By hell. They live in the “Realm of Lies,” Fearing the shadow Of the hand that is both friend and foe.

A Feast of Dialects

By Susana Illera Martínez Paula was trying to come to terms with her reality; she was far from her home country, on the verge of starting a new life, and coming to terms with that filled her with anxiety and sadness. It was a street like any other, but it wasn’t her street; shops everywhere, but very different from the ones she knew in her neighborhood; ordinary people…

Lyrics

Arriving just as you're leaving

One might say that there is a caste without a homeland, a group of outcasts who carry lunchboxes as their banner, deprived of the delights of their homeland…

Lyrics

Rediscovering Your Dreams

By VozEs: Venezuelan author Diana Fernández reads about 48 books a year—a habit she inherited from her mother, who was an avid reader of thrillers, mysteries, and novels packed with drama and action. That’s why her debut novel, *Detrás del Mensaje*, is full of intrigue and excitement. The…

Reading and meditation with the children

By VozEs “Reading offers the chance to connect with your children; sitting down to read a story creates a physical and emotional bond.” So says Venezuelan writer Carol Van Pampus, who moved to the United States with her husband in 2012 to work as an export manager. Currently, in addition to…

(Un)determined

Someone from the U.S. Census came to visit me, and I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m not sure what the result was. Perhaps it’s best to leave it as something (un)determined:

VACUUM[S] AND LINT[S]

Life in exile is built on distances—futile attempts to bridge the gap between two houseboats caught in the storm of the years

Skull poems for Trump and Joe Biden

Literary calaveras are a traditional form of poetry in Mexico during the Day of the Dead. The verses range from satirical to critical. Initially, they were written to mock death, a common theme in Mexican folk culture; however, over time, these short poems have come to feature…

Adventure and Me

It was the beautiful adventure that whispered through my window, saying, “Let me teach you everything, and let’s run away together.”

Poems by Gumaro

Gumaro Manzo Benite began writing 12 years ago; however, he recalls that he was only able to attend school for four years in his hometown of Tepatepéc, Francisco I. Madero, in the state of Hidalgo, Mexico. He has been living in Charlotte, North Carolina, for 17 years. “There wasn’t enough money for more. But,…

On the way to seven years

that weave their way through the uneven stitches of my old wool patchwork blanket. Roughly square patches where dreams (more or less unfulfilled) rest, holding onto resilience.

At the border

By Loli Molina Muñoz Lucero walked just like her mother, her feet turned slightly outward and the rest of her body swaying to a rhythm reminiscent of the music her ancestors loved most. The streets of Guatex were covered in reddish sand from the last storm, and windows and doors remained tightly shut…

Lyrics

It's going to rain

By Loli Molina Muñoz The warm May rain will fall upon us, washing everything away and leaving silence in its wake. We love it when it pushes the leaves aside without mercy and the chairs stand firm like teachers at the end of class. It will rain, and we will lose the light, but we will gain the music woven from the trees and the roof of…

Lyrics

Lucia and Juan

"Mariana, what should I do? Lucía wants to move in with Juan." "Call me as soon as you can! We need to talk!" Laura said in a voice message.

Lyrics

On Amado Nervo Street

I grew up on a street named after the poet Amado Nervo, playing in the rain-soaked streets during the July and August rains, drinking corn atole while sitting on the sidewalk with my grandmother outside number 158.

Lyrics

The cacti of my heart

By Santiago Parra, age 8 I miss the cacti up north, my bread, and the tacos. The wind doesn’t need a passport; here, there’s plenty of rain and puddles.

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