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
so lovely and unforgettable women, sisters that
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
from 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.