Antonio Justel Rodriguez


... mother of all times, pick me up in your arms, shelter me;
in the huge hole of your love, look at me and recognize me,
smile at me, talk to me;
... I shiver, I feel cold and the gale of death does not stop
nor the irruption of mountains and terrible seas through the depths of the soul,
and no, not the intimate darkness, mother,
  no, not fear, not anguish;
... before you I cry out like a fallen god,
which man,
which lily or animal I was;
… There are many, mother, my pieces, the scars / soul, the sutures,
from all the exiles and ordeals I come;
... I am not asking for a warm place in the home, and no, not a sun, mother;
just breath, pause the pain, just, just;
we children of Cain grow up with war.
Antonio Justel Rodriguez 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on by demand of Antonio Justel Rodriguez.
Published on on 08/27/2021.


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