In solitude, they cried.
They told each other what in their hearts remained
after the devastation that consumed their heirs.
The dusty room was dark,
the walls were fragile
and the air was cold.
Their hands were shaking
but their minds were strong,
their legs were numb
for running far away from home.
Their backs were achy
and so were their hearts of gold.
For miles, they had run
before succumbing
to the horror of it all.
For miles, they had run
before realizing
that they were long gone.
The bodies were cold
they weighted like a heavy stone.
They had lifted them up from the reddish ground,
they had lifted them up from their own praised land.
For years, they had worshipped the earth
which for many moons had provided their bread;
for years, they have worked until the end-of-day
and woke up to begin again.
But then, greed appeared
with a set of punishing hands
that bled them to death.
In their absence, avarice decided to possess
all that it belonged to them,
even their kids, their names,
and the spirit of the land ahead.
They carried their heirs,
they run for miles, and did not bend,
they carried their pain,
their love and their despair,
the violence and the end.
And in solitude, they cried
tumultuous howling of agonizing cry,
the cried their past, their heritage
and their land;
but above all,
they cried their hearts…
and tears of gold
began to shine
the love that one feels for a child.
And in solitude, they cried,
they told each other what remained in their hearts:
an eternal silence that echoed the path
the path one must follow
when the sorrow has won.
By Carolina Gonzalez (Carolina Portilla Garcés)
February 27th, 2015
CarolinasWords 