Lira Lema

Honey Scars

The tides polnished the cliffs down to sand,
The night tamed the waves
And the foam has turned itself into dewdrops.
But you are not here to see this starry ocean;
Your absence is the name of my sorrow.
The mist decomposed your breath into radiance
Or into the loss of a voice that leaves with no one to record it.

The parents acknowledge the name of our people,
But isn’t it too late for you already?
I wish you could answer
When Utopia comes, won’t it be too late?
The blueloving Moon relieves my damaged Ariel
But is it joy what I feel? Or is it grief?
There’s such a vast coast for remembrance to grow…
Now we can recollect what we were precluded to know.
Be poetry a place for prefiguration,
Be the Moon a place of dream,
Be a heart a place for roots to crumple a body and orchids to bloom.

We bring Utopia the smell of powder
So that the fragrance of the roses may flourish…
Look, there is a dim light appearing in the horizon.
But you are not here to feel the warmth.
The dawn sculpts shadows from what the night painted black;
In your garden we will grow sensibility
From what the clouds withered numb.