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I do not know how many wars you conquered
or which medals recall that bitter day,
I do not know how many lovers left you
or those you let go astray.
I do not know the dreams that haunt you,
or if you find solace in the night,
I do not know the wounds you suffered
or if you ever had to fight.
I do not know the gods to whom to you pray,
or if candles were lit to bring you home,
I do not know if you ask forgiveness,
and seek shelter in this dome.
I do not know if my heart has made you cry,
of the pains you've had to bear,
what I know is that one bright day
I will be there among these sands of time.
written between Miami-London 1989
1 comment:
brilliant
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