CYPRESS
I’m the tall tree that follows the line of prayer as it rises
spoken by a tranquil soul
I’m the lance that pierces the red dusk and guards the Invisible
from denial and irony
I’m the black cassock of the monk who hasn’t finished
his penance in the festivity of the land
I’m the bell tower in the temple of pain that chimes my silence
for the souls that daily seek solace in vespers and matins
Libros Libertad 