Visitors
Voice, you couldn’t take care of the house. The pursuers never listened to the most powerful one. They slowly infiltrated until becoming a storm.
Immobility, tent of our delirium, you intensify the pursuit.
She, the unconquerable one, couldn’t stop the pack of hounds. I hear voices, torches, whips. They’ve been here for months. I yell at them: I’m not the one you’re looking for. But they know their prey: they know I haven’t moved.
Now they’re camped out in front of the balcony. They prepare themselves to becoming gusts. The prey transforms into a witness who sees, with naive distance, the cruel task.
The day’s grievance.
She remains immobile.
Didn’t he honor you? Didn’t he pull you out of the frozen corner where you were drowning? Didn’t he make his table your table, considering, without worrying? Now you abandon him to his solitary strength. He counted on you. You were the one that moved him. Don’t leave him, he won’t survive alone; the pursuers are superior to him.
The voice was interrupted by the chimera, by disdain. Nothing remained exempt. Now the one who was being pursued also disbelieves: he sees no corporeal nature in words.
Let the son and his shade be born from the white metal. The acrid-colored water has flowed weaving days to the punishment. Copper is missing in the black matter. Not words: they don’t make a front. Writing was a drawing traced amidst the urgency of persecution.
I’ve wandered under this light because I never found what was calling me. Protean life, multiple voice, moveable face. Spirit of ductility, halting, misty, hermetic. Roundabout for conjunction. Don’t look for me in the dream of masks. I betray.
Lord of change, son of the sea, shake the immobile waters, move the sick metal, convert. Take from me detention. Make me a new face.
I don’t want the pursuing hands to find me.
Without your favor the task becomes interminable.
In your hands I place my destiny.
Memorial (1977)
{ Rafael Cadenas, Obra entera, México DF: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2000 }
No comments:
Post a Comment