Someday I will die,

and even if they send my soul to the heavens,

I know I will be forever homesick.

For sure, I will be longing for my days on earth,

remembering old surprising scarlet red sunsets

preceding soft nights where happily I had met

lovely and unforgettable women, sisters

our race has refined in such a beauty

never seen anywhere or anytime else.

Longing for a world made by ourselves, humans

full of many faults, sins and mismatches, stripped

of gifts inherent to a God or a Creator, however

never lacking incessant and true-hearted a love.

Longing for the smell of wet ground from which

our ancestors once were created;

longing for the birds’ carols perched on trees

where indomitable free winds sway their leaves

and also leave their song;

longing for the days of glory on winning struggles

once we had supposed were lost.

Longing for a man once alive who believed

he could one day be a king in his kingdom.

Published in Algebra of Owls, February 01, 2017.


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