Tuesday, June 07, 2011
END OF EXILE (1990)
I now find myself in the arch of hope
and I find my mother waiting for me
A search for ancient books and windows
To see if I can still admire the mountains.
I return to find my grandmother
After ten years apart
To unearth the river that precipitates awaits me
A mechanical forced torrents
A search for scattered tiny bubbles of time.
I now find myself
With friends who stayed
Those who survived the terror and secrecy.
I come behind the podium speeches, empty; white
I take the back these applauses
A thousand pardons to the meridian that shelters me
But this trip will not forgives.
I confused dates and forgotten the horizon
Sometimes, I repeat, this happens only sometimes
I have gone back up to the awkwardness
And I looked like a bed hungry roots.
I go to meet the waif
-You guys know what I mean -
between wires and rusty trigger
I see and I fear myself.
I do not know if I am here from there or beyond
because if you ask me where I am
I do not know what I should answer.
This is the end of this search backward
Good is waiting for me and I hope so
To give me strength to face the image
of this body of 10 years of never ending exile.
The fish die because it opens its mouth
How often it will tell you to stay silent
Let me break you even if the waves breaks
Rapidly approaching the coast.
Let me break them smashing into the sand
Anxiety as I walk along the avenues is lost
Mourners and dark streets of my city.
The home of my people look like old paintings
Nominations lost and forgotten people
Initials of love unknown
Haired old ladies look at me puzzled
Feelings hinted that under the sheets
That cover the ferocity of time subtly
What happens distressingly beside us
And we unleashed the fear of lost days.
Which is tied to former whereabouts
As a poem out of memory
At the same time give me the air I breathe
When you miss me in silence
If I say things like appliances
It is only the name without forget
They were my study my reminder
Nothing more than single words
Woven just for my patience.
Mother son woman comrade
Nobody will come out of the dark corners of the past
To tour the fear and fatigue
Time is not a line or a circle for a moment
There is only for the fear.
Posted by Unemployed Reporter at 2:10 PM