The writers are men and women who write according to their time, their lives and their possibilities. Gone are the writers who lived locked in a bubble turned into gods of writing. As we all know, writing has become the weapon of those who do not have rifles, but who need to protest against the injustices, corruption, despotism of some governments. Venezuelan writers are no exception. They, as good children of the darkness in which we live, have tried to record the history of this century and make clear their position in the face of so much pain and sadness.

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In the previous installments, we have treated two poems, by two poets, that speak of the situation of Venezuela in recent years. On this occasion, I would like to close this series, with a young poet, but one of the best known and awarded: Luis Enrique Belmonte. This poet, narrator, essayist, psychiatrist and psychotherapist is one of the best known voices of contemporary Venezuelan literature. In his work he has walked through literary themes such as the poetic task, the office of writing, also by the madness and loneliness, the daily life and the reality of the Venezuelan. From this last topic, I leave here an example:

Another long journey will come.

It will be necessary to imagine again such wide spaces
like the skin of light on the prairies.
And walking on stilts for fairs or platforms,
and take care of tripping and safe conducts.

You will have to pass your hand
on the back of those who lie in the squares
and dismiss with that same hand
to those who are staying in the ditches.

In these first two stanzas, the lyrical voice tells us to embark on a new and long journey. It indicates the need to take precautions, to imagine spaces and to assume behaviors with respect to our environment and to the people who stay, stranded, between the corners. These first two stanzas mark the idea of a new beginning, necessary to keep us alive and with faith.

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Later he continues talking about the importance of the trip:

It will be necessary to return to tarnish the crystals
with the breath of someone who stretches out of a sweet winter.

Another long journey will come.

We will have to prepare the saddlebags
Thinking that we will never again go back the same way.

We will have to sharpen the tools, the fangs and the heart,
without drying the well of clear water.

In the following verses, the poetic voice maintains the tone of enthusiasm before a new beginning. The new trip has no return, or at least not to what we are now. The trip will be an advance, a march forward, which will allow us to grow more than we have done so far. To undertake our long journey again we must provide ourselves with certain tools, including fangs and hearts, to defend ourselves, to withstand the vicissitudes that will come, the challenges we must face. At the end of this part, he reminds us that beyond what we live, what we suffer, we must maintain our essence, the best of us.

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In the last part of the poem, we read what the trip will be like, what its meaning will be:

It will be like opening your arms blindly.

It will be like going through a dark ravine
and trusting to the glare of the last cigarette.

It will be like waking up from a long sleep
with the eyes of horror, the new day, the wonder.

Another long journey will come.

In the final part, we see what it will mean to get back on track. There is some blind confidence in this new dawn, in this new path. We will try to grab onto that little branch that remains, the last effort in which we bet everything. This new journey is the representation of the future, of being able to advance and get out of this quagmire, of being able to reach the longed-for and simple tomorrow. Venezuela, as the country that is always born, that rises every day; the Venezuelans as those willing to travel, to the new beginning, spirited and hopeful, that after so much waiting on the platform, the train that we expected so much has finally arrived.

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I do not believe that the fact that a novel, short story or poem includes references to the society to which it belongs is, in no way, a particular condition of Venezuelan writing, but rather a universal mark. Nor do I believe that the great solutions of our great problems can be expected from literature. What I do believe is that the contemporary Venezuelan writer must be more and more committed to the problems that are in his environment, to the society in which he lives and to the future he wants. We need writers who show the panorama of the country, who make us understand the reality and if it is the case, who urge us to change it.

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