LatinosUSA

The One They Didn’t Hear

I walk on cracked pavement,
stubborn weeds.
The city cannot see its reflection.
But the sky still breathes.
They called it wandering.
I called it paying attention.

Silence can sound like failure
if you fear stillness.
Tomorrow rubs her greasy hands on your cheeks,
you cannot stop it.
Distance undresses
what chaos places in suits and ties.

Truth arrives slower
with mud on its shoes,
wind in its pockets,
carrying questions,
never trophies.

One day, they will realise
I was never lost,
just walking
where the horizon
could finally speak.

Francisco Bravo Cabrera