by marie howe, from the kingdom of ordinary time
even if i don't see it again - nor ever feel it
i know it is - and that if once it hailed me
it ever does -
and so it is myself i want to turn in that direction
not as towards a place, but it was a tilting
within myself,
as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where
it isn't - i was blinded like that - and swam
in what shone at me
only able to endure it by being no one and so
specifically myself i thought i'd die
from being loved like that.
rápidas manos frías/ retiran una a una/las vendas de la sombra/abro los ojos/ todavía/ estoy vivo/en el centro/ de una herida todavía fresca ~*madrugada* por octavio paz
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