Sin parar
Sin Parar is a poem of beautiful contradiction, a tree cursed for the pain it causes, yet clung to for the very support it offers. Written in Spanish, it moves through thorns, drowning, and prayer before arriving at an admission that is equal parts wound and comfort: that the thing we beg to lose is also the only thing holding us up.
POETRYSPANISH
Maldito es ese árbol que crece sin parar.
Que deja espinas en el suelo cuando voy a caminar.
Cuyas raíces han crecido dentro de mi corazón.
Enviándolo en este mar,
Aunque no sé nadar.
Rezo que se seque una vez más.
Sin embargo, al menos él sí me
Sostiene sin parar.
Rough translation:
Cursed is that tree that grows without stopping. That leaves thorns on the ground when I go to walk. Whose roots have grown inside my heart. Sending it into this sea, though I don't know how to swim. I pray that it dries up once more. And yet, at least it holds me, without stopping.
Analysis:
This poem is structured like a contradiction that the speaker cannot resolve, and refuses to. It opens in curse and closes in confession, and the distance between them is where the poem's entire emotional truth lives.
The tree is not a gentle metaphor. It leaves thorns. Its roots have invaded the heart without permission, invasive, relentless, growing without stopping. The speaker is not romanticizing this love. They are naming it something that has caused real damage, sending their heart into a sea they don't know how to navigate. The prayer, I pray that it dries up, is earnest. It isn't a dramatic performance. It is the quiet desperation of someone who has been asking for relief for a long time.
And then the final turn: at least he holds me, without stopping. The same phrase used to curse the tree at the beginning becomes the reason the speaker cannot fully let go. Sin parar transforms. What was relentless becomes steadfast. Whart was suffocating, becoming the only thing keeping them above water. The poem doesn't resolve this. It just holds both truths at once, and that is exactly what makes it honest.
-Courtesy of the author
(956) 733-7455
© 2026 Eyden Villarreal. All rights reserved. Unauthorized use or distribution of content is prohibited.