WHAT IF / COSAS QUE QUIZAS
- Ernesto Beckford
- Apr 12
- 3 min read
It’s been quite a while since I last shared one of my short stories. Lately, most of my creative energy has been devoted to my collages—which, to my surprise and delight, have found some resonance in the art world. Still, the need to write never really disappears. It waits quietly, like a familiar breath just beneath the surface.
Recently, I finally gave in to that pull and put pen to paper—not to write a story, but to shape two poems. The first is in Spanish, titled Cosas que quizás, and the second in English, titled What If. They aren’t direct translations of each other, but rather twin reflections—each exploring the same emotional landscape in its own language and tone.
I suppose I wrote them this way because I often feel like I have two voices living inside me. In Spanish, my soul feels more lyrical, more romantic, more intuitive. In English, I lean toward clarity, structure, and introspection. These two modes of expression don't compete—they complement each other. They reflect the cultural duality I carry with me every day.
To be bilingual is not just to speak two languages—it is to live between two worlds, to be shaped by their distinct rhythms, their silences, and their contradictions.
I hope you enjoy these poems, which are deeply personal. I would love to know what they stir in you.
Thank you, as always, for reading.
WHAT IF
What if the train
already passed
(and we never even saw it)?
What if love lives nowhere—
except in the silences we share?
What about the pain—
will it ever go away?
It lingers in the air—so thin.
It pauses.
Then it stirs.
It knows its place.
It stays.
I guess—perhaps—I should call you now…
but I know I can’t,
I know I won’t.
(I know I lack the courage).
Perhaps, tonight,
the flowers will bloom.
The ones that grow slowly.
The ones that come late.
So beautifully perfumed,
with sweetness turned sour.
Maybe this night
you’ll come as well,
if you dare pull away from the life that holds you still…
(perhaps you'll find the courage),
(perhaps I'll find the will).
And in time,
our memories will settle
(or fade away),
(or become what we accept anyway).
At times, I ask myself,
what would've happened
had I stayed in Buenos Aires?
And what if we, just us,
were to find our train again?
Without searching, without asking.
Without looking.
As it happens
with things
we pretend still matter.
Cosas que quizás
Quizás el colectivo ya pasó
(y ni nos dimos cuenta).
Quizá el amor no viva en promesas,
sino en silencios compartidos.
Quizás el dolor no se cure,
pero se transforma.
Como el aire
cuando se queda quieto
(antes de llover).
Quizá te llame más tarde…
pero no sé…
(no tengo ánimo).
Quizás venga la flor esta noche.
Esa que nunca corta camino,
la que tarda,
pero siempre perfuma.
Y quizás vengas vos,
si lográs escaparte del laburo…
(capaz te animes).
(Capaz me anime yo).
Quizá no lo entiendas ahora,
pero con el tiempo,
todo se acomoda.
(O se desgasta).
(O se vuelve recuerdo).
A veces me pregunto
qué hubiera pasado
si me quedaba en Buenos Aires.
Quizás algún día
nos crucemos de nuevo,
(sin buscarlo).
Como pasa con las cosas
(que de verdad importan).
Ernesto Beckford
April 12, 2025
© Ernesto Beckford 2025
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