DESOLATION

DESOLATION
Suddenly I was stranded
Prostrate there
All that audacity that sprang up
You should disappear
And like any bird with wings undone and falling
Sad and in their own shadows
Tenebrous and multiplied
Yes, there I was, nailing the swords
And constant in an insistent procession
From old ghosts
Trying to make that ordeal
The sacrifice itself,
Like any executioner of himself
Welcoming then
This cold oil that inhabits me.

Author
Sonia Herrera Hurtado