The panic

having arrived is less than not having gone.
because if we don't stay
if we do not break with the faith of the martyrs
and we leave there a living word, a nest,
a hug,
The warmth, the look, the panic are of no use.
have arrived to put a cloth
icy water on the wounded forehead, having taken the
morning tea, having kissed the mouth, the hands,
to then descend the steps alone
that lead to oblivion,
To the cities where our names are equivocal
where the noise of an insect comes to intimidate us,
having arrived is worth less than not having gone,
if we had stayed cross-footed we would have
the excuse of the unknown, the immediate discard under
the foundation of madness.
but having been there, having been able to endure,
exist there, be there the jacaranda and then feel the empty air.
that would have had no merit
no sense.
but we stayed, luckily, due to fatigue, for days,
by the fire you want, by the goodness you choose,
we are there, obstinate, still.

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A veces leo.

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