Is my ghost staring at me?
Screaming in silence,
what my deft heart has not been yet allowed to hear?
Am I just witnessing it howl?
Its knees are bending, it all comes down;
its air is gone, but its eyes still shine.
Nuances of restoration,
fixated with my volatile life
are stitching an endless path
where thorns of salt
scrape the silence,
and agony becomes a cry.
Is it my ghost staring at me?
Awaiting for me to find,
what has been discovered inside my poignant mind?
Is it staring at me?
Is it a ghost or is it just me?
Screaming in silence,
because my heart allows me to feel?
By Carolina Gonzalez (Carolina Portilla Garcés)
February 26th, 2015
CarolinasWords 