… (cuando no queda otra voz)

shelter, not asylum
my body asked of you
a trusting hand beneath
your white shirt,
or mine:
the quiet nest where
cities, politics and genealogies could be kind
(…kindly taken by surprise)
or just us
just us

our belongings
the gentle cups and pillows we bring with us
the old sweater
and new towels:
these should be the words at dawn,
the choir at night,
two bodies,
two rings,
the holy spirit of domesticity,
its cavalier’s heart,
when words go adrift

I so know the whisper that could turn me into
stone or skin
but upon us,
this fate rests


this cold surrender,
your void eyes,gods afar
a drawning voice lingers
so foreign

under iced lakes, yet tenderly


fairies, angels
the will of love can be glitter, spells,
paper mache
my soul can touch all things, softly
but this garden, our home,
she and I,
so fiercely will defend


One thought on “… (cuando no queda otra voz)

  1. kind, gently but nevertheless strong are you words my friend. A lot of the time like a whisper that lingers and embraces in times of need.

    You talk to the child, the free, the innocent within me, and she rejoices in the thought that the fairy, beautiful, sparkling world is not only in her dreams.

    Bless you and your child within, she is a little wise lady.



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