By: Francheska Herrera Marvez
The Wait
Silent
I start my march towards the garden.
My feet obey
the instinct of other eyes.
It only takes a hug
from the earth.
Everything is about to begin.
Tears, flowers, candles,
litanies after litanies
and so
***darkness... ***
How long until you feel
the heat of the worms?
How much
until the next caress of the rain?
Now I live a boat
made of wood and glass,
from here I will look
once again the sky,
its foam and its stars.
A silver face
will kiss the memory
you want to accompany me.
I will wait patiently for the end of the journey.
