I clearly go towards your silence with these broken hands
/ in the house of the deaf
I summoned the last word
you cried when I told you we weren’t
you tore up the throat when I gathered the three
I now cross balconies
vessels without echoes
seven shrines of torn weaves
no one tells me if there’s noise afterwards
I drown a quest in the cold horizon
I call on you
and the body withdraws from the memory
I invoke you
then the departure faces me
I come out, I tempt
I experiment the vacuity over the texture
From On the other side of the dark path (Ediciones del Movimiento, 2015)
In the darkness of the body, we face each other
we look for one another there, where all the viscosities are remade
we separate the fires
we initiate the constant call
and nothing remains on the other side
but what the impatience
You wake me among the sheets and the dawn inaugurates in an unrepeatable friction.
I stop you in the fragile event.
For so long, we awaited this fainting spell.
I was another one, many times. I loved with stridency and I became gall, demon, wildness. I returned clean, light, with no rocks under my nails neither blood on my shoes though. I didn’t forsake children neither secrets in the paths. All those men, I erased them. It only remained this one, docile, loyal, for the reverence.
Poems: Zakarías Zafra | Translation: Camila Cristo | Illustrations: Sara Viloria.