Stella M. Araneda

Durhan, NC, USA

As a teenager, Stella loved to write. After marrying, her family moved to the USA from Argentina. While in the USA, she gave up writing in her quest to conquer the English language. Stella studied art at the Washington School of Arts and she studied Sociology at Duke University where she received a Bachelor of Arts degree. Currently, Stella works for a major health insurance company and she also works as a translator. In her spare time, Stella takes singing lessons and enjoys writing poetry. Stella recently received the "Editor’s Choice Award" for her poetry by the National Library of Poetry.

Todd

My friend Todd died.
It is as simple as these words.
What he left behind is not that simple.

Unique person
he was.
What he was
will never be.

Life was in every nerve
and in every cell of his body
and he loved every minute of it.

Prognosis was AIDS!
And that good looking, young man full of life
was consumed by it.
And within a year
Todd left this world.

Leaving relatives and friends
with millions of questions.
Why? Why Todd? Why so young?
Why AIDS? Why was he gay?

Science has its theories
Psychology has its answers
but nobody knows for certain.
AIDS is AIDS and it does not discriminate.

There is a lost link
in this conflicted subject,
and this is the human element.

I only remember Todd
the person,
my friend,
and that's the way I
will always remember him.
With his small bright blue eyes
and that big smile on his face
that gave him dimples on his cheeks.

And god . . . do not let me
pass judgment
of what I cannot understand
or of what I do not know . . .

Modern Times

It is with profane reverence that I sit in front of this square box.
The miracle of the century she is called, and she is.
Turn on a switch and a whole new world is in front of you.
There are no limits to what she is able to do.
Knowing that pressing a switch and giving certain commands,
I have a slave for life, makes me feel very powerful.
For she cannot refuse orders, cannot show discontent either,
and if she tries, I turn the switch off.
Somehow I can relate to her.
I am a robot too, I cannot have feelings anymore.
If this is not life at work, then I am a fool.
This is what is expected today, for each person to be
an extension of one’s computer and if one does not comply the switch is
turned off . . .