Yearning

The roar of the silent forest
shaking me the dust coming from my desert spirit.
Where can I find my brother?
soul mate on hold, so absent,
perhaps in Patagonia
there he is screaming my name
I am hearing nothing but the rain
after hugging trees maybe will change my life
because I am feeling myself so weird,
as an orphan herbarium.

S

uddenly I become a sound
just a brief sob
an impossible song to remember
a phantom pain against the brave.

Tomorrow
I will hustle back to the routine matinee
In the enormous city
labyrinthine streets under threatening tomahawks
between elbows, riots,
and extraordinary beings
ordinaries.

Trad. Jaime Augusto Shelley.