Whisper

Por: Hernández, Francisco

Some call it wind, others say fire;
Some hold it sacred, others have
No regard for it. A whisper
Screaming right and left of the sword,

Dripping from the hand of God or
Devil. Life—faith and myth—trail of
Combustion in a timeless grave
Faithful to its own acquiescence

Setting ablaze Heaven and earth.
As for me, a simple-minded
Passerby, a seed or two deep
In the womb that awaits my hands

Will resurrect spring in all its
Glory at the slightest kiss of
Sunlight. Is there a better end
Than the one held between the eyes?

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