Love
Love,
sometimes I wake up
with the feeling that you're still by my side
I feel your imaginary kiss
touch the corner of my mouth.
Over your memory the dark birds nest.
My days are sheltered by the depressing fog
and life clings to my body like a disease.
There is no balsam on earth
to heal the wound of loss.
The tissue of my skin loses the memory of your hands
And I don't know what to do with this feeling
that boils inside me.
Love,
In your silence live the dark call of the sunset
loneliness takes over the house.
Love,
sometimes I wake up
with the feeling that you're still by my side
I feel your imaginary kiss
touch the corner of my mouth.
Over your memory the dark birds nest.
My days are sheltered by the depressing fog
and life clings to my body like a disease.
There is no balsam on earth
to heal the wound of loss.
The tissue of my skin loses the memory of your hands
And I don't know what to do with this feeling
that boils inside me.
Love,
In your silence live the dark call of the sunset
loneliness takes over the house.
Before crossing the border
before stepping into that hazy land
I’ll kiss you as proof of my love
and tell you how I learned to love you
under the shadows of the trees
in our distant Quezaltepeque.
we’ll let ourselves be devoured by the smoke and noise
of that damned animal,
and if we’re still together
we’ll close our eyes
and pretend
that we’re dreaming.
and separate ourselves from our land
is a pain that only we know
the exiled
the ones without a country
we die slowly
in pieces
ignored
without our roots
far away
without the shelter of the branches
on our trees.
(Photo by Ornán Gómez)
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