Monday, January 20, 2014




                                  A never-ceasing silence casts a shadow
                                  Upon the scent of suffering and sacrifice.
                                  What is pain without sound?
                                  What is rain without thunder?
                                  The river flows on molding new pebbles
                                  Out of the huge rocks that block its passage.
                                  Is it a ritual or a song? Is it a bird or a prison?
                                  Words mutate: they fall victim to some
                                  Unexplained genetic disturbance.
                                  You must deny all past utterances as you
                                  Walk in the fog to the other side of the river.
                                  You must be quiet, very quiet,
                                  As you step on the pebbles, climb on the rocks,
                                  Watch the distant rain without thunder.

                                                                           Ernesto G.

No comments: