What is sad ?
When poetry becomes vague
in broken words comes the tears forgotten
the thirst of memory ...
the echo of the verse.
And you're not where you live
not
marched one day and wrote my empty hands
silence-a silence without face-
(I named sadness)
Not knowing what was and perhaps still are
-only muse and poet hidden tear
when that silenced the words
born
and sadness.
(my insomnia)
Alma Cervantes
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