Those Never Shed by V. Marin

Here I am, dead.

This morning I woke up dead.


There is a party later on,

After the sun rises

Red, bleeding light, wide

Pushing heat upon the ground.


Yes, I still happen, I found a way.

I don’t know why, however, I won’t vanish soon.


But, what was supposed to be a process.

In fact, became an act, theater;

The being’s power was unmeasured,

Renegade, dispersed, blended with darkness’ legends.


Underling and thwarted by them, I dress that black suit.

Still tender, my heart refuses to stop.


Those pale faces

Are not mine.

The restless hands, two hundred crossed fingers, fiercely tied

Are not mine.


Ah, even if this warm solid land

Accepts me

Slowly, in its breast,


I won’t lay down

Because in your obtuse, internal, confused,

Deaf, convulsive, collective cry…

I have found myself.


Now, I am the tears,

Those never shed.


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