By: Francheska Herrera Marvez

The Wait

Silent

I start my march towards the garden.

My feet obey

the instinct of other eyes.

It only takes a hug

from the earth.

Everything is about to begin.

Tears, flowers, candles,

litanies after litanies

and so

***darkness... ***

How long until you feel

the heat of the worms?

How much

until the next caress of the rain?

Now I live a boat

made of wood and glass,

from here I will look

once again the sky,

its foam and its stars.

A silver face

will kiss the memory

you want to accompany me.

I will wait patiently for the end of the journey.

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