BRUTAL AND ATROCIOUS

                                                  
                                                                                       […under the Franco dictatorship]
  
…I always loved the glow and they only let us cry freely;
black butterflies played with my childhood, and a precocious love,
and a suburb of God to lies;
done like this,
Any teenager implies sixty kilos of sadness, and eternal hunger, and thirst,
and a drastic road without water or palm trees;
… my people and my city were sickles and ancient stones of rotten and tainted secrets in the ear,
the same ones that never carried the wind nor killed a knife nor swallowed the earth;
…and all, all were friends and enemies:
the old women,
the Wizards,
the swifts,
the church tower,
Sun
and the stork;
and if looking at the stork, the sun toasted my face,
My dry eyes asked for a tear and my feet asked for shoes to run and cry,
to hide, finally, what is brutal and atrocious: the enormous ruin of the war and after the war.
***
Antonio Justel/Orion of Panthoseas
http://oriondepanthoseas.com
***