Gabriela Etcheverry
Soon a great bird will take me to that strange, cold land
where you are nowa place where what we were or what we would have been no longer matters
because we must rebuild ourselves
sprouting like sculptures in the middle of the desert
made from the earth where we buried our loved ones
mud sculptures with no walls to shelter them
nor roof to protect them
My eyes are still looking beyond the now-uncurtained window
but all they see is the desolation behind me
not a single picture of yours on the walls
not a spoon in the kitchen
not a chair where to sit my sad humanity
“You will leave the hills and the ocean,
the starry skies of Coquimbo,
the sun, the moon, and the wind.”
And as if that weren't enough,
“You will leave father and mother and follow your husband.”
The wolf came, dear husband,
and with a breath he blew our house down,
or up,
he blew it into the air.
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