After the storm,
I lulled her, licking
her bruises, healing
her wounds, whispering
words unheard and unseen.

Her untamed eyes didn't open
and for fifteen minutes the cloudless
sky wept.
We stayed there ritualizing the moment,
knitting the stars, counting the waves,
thinking about the future when the future
couldn't think of us.

Oh! This love was painted with tints of eternity:
a masterpiece in my heart of stone.

For some time I couldn't write,
I couldn't feel and right now
I wonder how long it will take us
to heal.

And the answers are silent and simple:
What is love but this immesurable
intensity binding us to pleausre
and pain?
What is love Yasmim but to raise
from the dead again?

Karla Bardanza

For my daughter.

1 comment:

  1. Yasmin is so blessed and fortunate to have you for a mother... a mothers heart so full of love and caring... to heal the wounds and kiss the pain away... Precious this is... ptp... this is exquisite! EXALT! tc