Why the Question?
Time will come again,
when you’ll say the same words again, words
long exhausted, you’ll start walking as if going ahead
not knowing that perhaps the road is blocked,
you’ll persistently knock on the same door again
when there isn’t anyone to open,
when you won’t have the means or the desire to break it down
when the clay statues in the garden
stand on a line behind the railings,
covered over by ivy and the caterpillars
statues perforated multi-eyed, blind,
with their fallen-off glassy eyes
deep down in the hollowness of their legs,
even lower, deeper, in the rotten water and soil.
Libros Libertad 