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AN UNINVITED GUEST |
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AN UNINVITED GUEST By Amparo Jaramillo-Restrepo
I couldn't fathom how she could
cross my tightly closed door
and came uninvited to sit on my chair
quietly, silent, timid, trying to keep
as far as possible from me.
I couldn't see her face while
she looked for a golden sun's ray,
but I saw her skinny, elegant legs,
and her soft, brilliant fur.
I honored her silence by trying to go back to my poem pencil, paper and thesaurus at hand, my my eyes closed and open my mind. The only thing I knew about her was that she was a master artist, an outstanding self- taught weaver. My memories went back to my mother doing those exquisite crochet made tablecloths and bedspreads for family and friends. I wanted to concentrate on my work while obviously she was wandering, inspecting my apartment inch by inch, looking for the perfect corner to hang her masterpiece. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. "She is harmless" I said to myself. "I'm a pacifist. I can't kill a living thing." Then, I wondered if she had a family. "This place is big enough for the two of us. Look at her. She is an amazing, innocent creature who is not asking for anything. Don't kill her! Maybe as they say in my country she will bring me good luck!' But I was weak. After all, a spider is not a welcome guest
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