To my mother who knows them.
I would be one more thread on the tablecloth,
another symmetrical stripe of the tiger,
the identical and submissive drop that plummets
in the torrent of an epoch.
Mariene Lufriú.
In my birth or first incarnation
I used to believe that everything was guaranteed,
a good slope despite the mistakes.
It did not want and broke ties to say:
So far, now is another way, the future.
The distant family; innocents waiting for the summer visits,
I, a fetus by deep waters,
moving away from the island and our own.
Tears appeared and through the storm the return.
After so many bodies I incarnate the one no one wanted to be.
Others of which one regrets
for not having continued, I speak of incarnations.
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
