Page 47 - The_Lizard

To my grandfather Israel.

With every rising sun you are reborn
your soul backlighting the dawn
filled with luminaries awaiting
your incessant journey through the meadows
you know the language of earth
the drought ends
when you plant seeds
you are the resting place for a thirsty bird
plants grow
through your boots
that have rambled across rivers
sand
and asphalt
the city could not understand you
you are only you in the fields
you and cries of the insects
you and the night branches
you and the crabs on the coast
you and the rice paddy
you, the yuca and the plantain
it is true that you can no longer get out of bed
but only you and God
know how to keep believing that
even within these four walls
there’s green.

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