My Steps
Elias Letelier

I talk to you

with the calm of a river

that leans on the sands

loving you

perfect diadem

of the poplars’ poncho.


I am absent

where your eyes don't touch me

and my hands don’t reach you.


Loved, I was,

in a room turned to ashes

while my brothers

entered the prisons and while

I dreamt of your arms

that I slowly forgot.


Now, I am alone

absolutely alone

without you

singing to freedom.

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