Those hands now white as acacias from the time that
then the greens of the years embraced hastily
your kind and urgent heart.
Your systole in a broken diastole
arrhythmias, rheumatism, aphasia and the eyes as if looking now
towards a forward that is behind
white-hearted magnolias like the hands of the gods
and the wrinkled scrolls of sages and alexandria
the long slow lines of long slow lives
a bunch of adventures misfortunes stories dreams and crimes
and as well as not those hands now white as the sun
that count and count drops of the past and the heroes
the yearning of desire that is already the fire of another story
your white hands grandpa
your grandfather hands marked by time
grandfather who threw the ashes into the sea
but that stayed with me