They taught me to beg
with my hands together
and to receive with them open
every day and every night
the fist that forms a spike
snatches what is forged in grace
to pause and raise my hands
in praise to the dream?
self-deceit is a school
where I excel in grades
and my hands grow tired of threshing the wheat
with desires as teachers
and a soul that doesn’t even dare
for its whole body to crawl
I could take the bread
as path and giving as prayer
I keep covering my face
every day and every night
Breath
to hold tight to these frets
move the fingers to the chest
and hit a chord
that stops me and sees my body
melodious
but to sleep in a scroll
that is written
with the doubts of a man
whom life passes by
sealing the pact that the Name
obliges
perhaps irresponsible
as a brother
when I awake
may a ballad take me
to the heartbeat that harmonizes
everything
(from Emaús y el vientre de arena [Emmaus and the belly of sand], 2016)
Translated by Arthur Dixon
