STARS

Exiled in my own land



I build clouds and castles


In the air as I rub my hands


diving slowly into this


nothingness.


My state is transient,


I am just a number


and nobody understands


my language.


There is no time for sentimentality.


What I feel or even what you feel


is unimportant.


Life is a short odyssey and I can’t


carry on, dragging dreams or


those scars on torn papers.


These same papers where this


love was alive.


I read Joyce, I read Lawrence,


I read and read but nobody


can answer me, nobody can


draw stars on the palms of


my trembling hands.


I am exiled in my hungry silence.






Karla Bardanza