... and Love was going with her mother-of-pearl bucket, collecting sorrows,
failures, terror and misfortunes;
he sat next to the pain and spoke to her, stroked her forehead
and he would hold her hands when he left;
such was his work through houses and streets, schools and parks,
And he also traveled airplanes, subways, buses, elevators ...
… And his journey had no end;
and when he knelt on the ground, he inhaled or pressed his chin to his chest,
he acquired an unusual and unthinkable brilliance;
... The last time I saw him, he went to yesterday's chiaroscuro:
holding my hand, he helped me up the last ramps of the morning.
Antonio Justel Rodriguez
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Antonio Justel Rodriguez. Published on e-Stories.org on 29.03.2021.