Her,, that with her kisses polishes the sharpened edges of my anguish of glass.
Her,,, a disarmed prophet that without charging me anything confronts all of my fears.
Futile is before her all of my silence, because she hears everything that I don’t say
She makes baron the argument in which I hide until she finds me, mirror of a love made distant
Her,, skin is the space in which I live
Within the desert in which my faith drags it self
she is the reason that I keep going
Her,, that without surrendering insists in giving me dreams that my reason resists
Her,, that fills with hugs the cynical spaces where my shame exists
What I once forgot she finds for me,
and with profound loyalty she returns it to me
And even so that I’m a jigsaw puzzle that torments her
She always figures me out
So round the labyrinth of our own uncertainty is
Our steps become our punishment
Instead of my anger intimidating her
She consumes it with me
Her the shadow of my shadow
Her the voice of my words
Her the blood of my wound
Her that everyday astonishes me with
With Her school girl eyes that nourish me
while intimidate me
By Alcides Becker Apolayo ® ® 2001
