jueves, 20 de febrero de 2014

His saints. Poem.

His saints

Put his saints face to the wall
and dance in the darkness
as the beasts

A bird of prey
seen arriving Santiago to Compostela
and brings him to sing

Grannies on the windows are watching
drops of rain on the scarlet
Easter flowers
but the cries of the wild
scare your little kindness

The old stones listen
your Old Sing

The overcast sky does not cease to cry