LatinosUSA

My mother passed away in the summer.
I was at sea in the summer.
The waves of freedom were endlessly spreading towards the horizon.
Butterflies traveled with the ship, often landing on the ship’s side.

After a long time, I returned to land.
My brothers and sisters were busy packing our luggage.
They didn’t tell me where we were going.
I guessed the misfortune from their evasive words.

My father, who didn’t know how to live, was not with them.
He stayed alone in another place,
no fire, no lights, no words.

Through the swaying darkness, I saw him standing
in front of the cabinet with the red paint worn off.
That was the only thing my parents had when they got married.
My father was as quiet as an old piece of furniture.

I want to set out again to find my father,
but I don’t know where to go.
I don’t know where I am.
It’s another muddy, slightly cold, deserted dusk,
and the poplars are rustling.

Standing in the darkness, I suddenly remember
my father passed away six years earlier than my mother,
and my mother has been dead for a full twenty years.

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