I float suspended in an ocean of time,
The coldness of my vacant future biting my bones,
My past still radiating painful heat.
Frozen are the rivers of life within me,
But even in the darkest night, my eyes can still see,
Through the crystal clear waters made of tears,
Gaps of darkness form cocoons of light,
With contorted figures tangled in locks of hair,
The long-legged shapes that spin like an upside-down ballet,
The frizzy hair is embroidered into silk wings,
And each muffled cry turns into a scale,
That cover the silken wings with a colorful mosaic of despair,
The winged figures plunge headlong to a bottomless end,
The once immaculate wings, torn before emerging,
His pristine consciousness tinged with vicious red,
Curvilinear figures rush into oblivion,
His eternal fall framed in a carelessness,
With silk wings fluttering like torn clothes,
I suffer for those whose dreams were taken away before me,
And I fear for those who walk a path of fallen feathers,
Her delicate silk wings, yet to be touched,
When heaven breaks, angels are thrown into hell,
But even if one second is enough to change the ending,
If your silk wings break, you will never fly again.
Poem by M. Ch. Landa translated from English.
Dedicated with respect to the memory of Debanhi Escobar and all the women victims of violence, whose silk wings were torn off too soon.
