I dreamed of you the first night of knowing of your death,
your image as in the photographs that circulated in networks,
with that look that goes through walls.
To remind you that afternoon I had chosen another,
one in which you smile among sunflowers, or rather,
you promise a smile with your lips
while your eyes go beyond yellow,
of the field full of light,
of the direction of the next laugh
in this universe or in another perhaps.
Today the river path returns
or the channel of that talk about bodies,
the lack of strength that seemed impossible in you,
fragility of consciousness in wakefulness,
the fear of getting lost in the void.
But who knows, my girl, after so much,
which is the light and which is the shadow,
what is the grace of this side still,
how you look differently in the autumn of the world
when the flight is full,
without any other plumage or weight than life afterwards.