A COLONIAL LAMENT

The moments are to write,

The paper is to site, A

nd I am to wait, for my heart to get light.

Numbness has incarcerated my heart;

I am robbed of all my robustness.

Life, not any, is left in me

As to feel the life ahead.

The four white walls, cruel masculine faces

Instill nothing but nausea and pain

Callous, cold and cruel as he is,

The parading eyes make the cross for me.

King, owner, jealous master,

Sparks of deadly fire glow from his eyes

I am made the slave, the dead

To be crushed, chewed and squeezed.

Sadly I remember the loss,

Even of feminine identity and charm;

To propitiate that gigantic male god.

The death-in-life really dawns on me,

The senses prophesying the smell of death.

I have long forgotten the smell of life;

Since I knew that diabolic figure.

In the earth, fire, and water

In the naked soil and in the splendid twilight,

I am searching for life everywhere.

Once, I could get the glimpse of life

In the sweet smile of a little darling.

O my child, kiss me with your eyes

To breed flowers of my tears.

Kiss me with your lips a thousand times,

Heal my wounds, rid me of the evils.

I am loved, hallowed and valued

When I saw the sweet angelic face.

Come to me in silence and dreams

To lit the dark corridors of my soul.

Get in to my being, to reside in me

And grant me the bliss to the end.