To the bride, groom, mother-in-law, compadre, grandparents or whoever you want
Give a skull
Because the year has not been like for gifts …
But first …
What are skulls?
Skulls are an essential part of every Day of the Dead. Moreover, an essential part of Mexico and point. From primary school, our teachers had us writing skulls as these dates approached.
In case you don’t know them, calaveritas are small poems in verse, written with humor, irony or some spicy Mexican gesture. Its main theme revolves around death. That’s right, since primary school we make fun of death.
These skulls are usually dedicated to a loved one, but they can also talk about famous people, Mexican artists, politicians (they touch them with less affection), or even yourself. The important thing is that at some point you play with death.
The idea of this tradition, like many around the Day of the Dead, is to record that death is something we do not accompany every day. It’s not necessarily bad, but, like skulls and altars, it can be full of colors, flavors, and happy memories.
Inevitably feel nostalgia, of course, but it is a recording that we are human and for all we all go.
How are you? Why hide the inevitable, we better see it as part of the walk, because this body is borrowed and life passes in a second. There we will end up meeting.
Anyway, you came here for skulls and as I do not want you to die waiting for me, here I share about seven with everything and dedication:
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Now yes, the skulls
For the bride (Yes, you Valentina, what else?)
I went to the flower shop and bought you some flowers
Then to the square that was passing by
I buy you three weird, colorful dresses
And for dinner wine, cheese and chilies in walnut
But when you came by the market, thinking of your glows
A ruthless calaca appeared to me by surprise
“I come for your life, don’t hide, don’t cry for me”
Dark and cold, that’s what that skinny woman told me
“At least say goodbye to the love of my loves”
“But leave your gifts,” he replied very angrily
And that’s why I’m here, ignore the rumors
I did not forget our anniversary, but your gifts
Death left me with nothing.
For the mother-in-law (obviously not for me)
I wear it all week with Jesus in my mouth
Is it my time, is it time for me?
I feel that a very dark figure follows me
Did the calaca come to my grave by chance?
The voice in every corner, I look crazy
I told this to my girlfriend, cold as rock
And just then I saw the figure again
“Dinner is served,” he told us sweetly
Apparently I will not die today and that if I am happy
But now I know very well that my mother-in-law is watching me
For the compadre
My compadre never needed to have fun
To drink your alcohol
The important thing was to measure yourself
Against all but his kidneys
Oh buddy, you left me
And you didn’t leave a drink of your liquor
Now alone, here very sad
I feel like watching the flowers die
But what do I see in the distance?
It’s the calaca that comes laughing
And next to me my compadre and his festivities
That he was not dead, he was partying!
In this house where everything is old
Where there is a lot of food and few rules
I grew up believing that far away
On his altar he would place the old ones
A goodbye to those teachers
That in life they leave a mark
That death there in heaven
So welcome them to a party
In the meantime I wake up
On the altar with his photo placed
Because this Day of the Dead
I don’t take a nap
Until I see my grandparents
Every night like this
My father and holy mother
I’m fine, I swear
I learned it with the flip flop
Although we are far away right now
Not even death scares me
Because I spoke to her very seriously
So that you are never taken away
For the brothers
I was walking with my brothers
From prank to prank
When unwittingly wanting
We did a lot on the adventure
“And now how do we get back?”
Ask my sister, the most mature
And at least we thought so
A calaca appears to us, with a very hard expression
“To return they will have to give me a soul”
That tall figure told us
“Sappho give mine” he replies hastily
“Who told the last one?” asked the bony one
And after much debate, we take her to the brink of madness
“Enough! Stay your souls, but stop the torture ”
And that’s how we escaped
Of a very certain death
For your bosses (don’t send it to mine, please)
One Friday like another
Locked up in the office
They all left, they left me
They closed up to the curtains
I thought they had finally made it
Going crazy with your routine
When he appeared in front of me
A dancing calaca
It looked very amazing
When I smiled at that catrina
“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid of me,
Doesn’t your guillotine land on you? ”
Naive skinny, I was waiting for you
Pa’que take me far, far from this corner
And so far we have left it for today because I was already in a lot of trouble.
But do not stop sharing this tradition, which continues to run through our veins.
And by the way, send me yours, I already want your poems empty.
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Luckily born in Mexico. Discovering the world through sport and art. I find refuge in nature