Among hills Apache red
Where damas and vaqueros
Built up a homestead
Past the mercados
And hills with a vague past
Running aside the mission
Its white walls chaste
In the glow of the noontime sun
Past a dreamy mountain range
And several places where in brief
There was a Butterfield stage –
Runs a highway through my life
And whether bathed by the sun
Or a cloud of headlight glare
It continues to function
And remain my anchor.
I have lived a hundred different lives -
Each as different as water is to stone.
I have dreamed a few far-away dreams
To discover that they were mine alone.
I have felt at times a trace of love
But was shown again that theirs was untrue.
I have often tried to bury the past
To find that it rarely stays inhumed.
I gave life to undeserving powers
But I was too late in retaking it.
I have seen the glory of success
But it was not my own to celebrate.
I have thrown my rage at the hailstorm
Life is a dialogue between love and the dust,
but there's a deeper death than death,
this is death, when the love, departs,
Each drop of blood is a starry song
and our souls are breaths of eternity.
In the end the buds returning to the tree.
The tree cares for us.
Love, a little church that standing all alone,
waits with open doors,
but nobody goes there to pray,
the prayers will go unsaid,
now, where to go? which way?
love, be my beacon,
teach me to look at an empty sky
without fear.
In His Eyes
Wariness recovered
Worldliness absorbed
And the relinquished -graceful and with preserved remnants
A life .. well lived .. by unembraced standards
A peace and resilience known only by few
A smirk and a wink
A knowing glowing eye
Oh heaven can I go where he is
Oh heaven can I know what he knows
Oh heaven can I live peacefully and amusedly as he does
My child, let your life come into the world of darkness
like a spark of light, without flicker and pure,
and thank them in silence. You know, my child,
they are cruel in their greed and envy,
their words are disguised knives thirsting for blood.
But do not be afraid, my child, go and stand in their hearts,
and let your gentle eyes fall on them like the forgiving serenity of the night.
My child, let them see your face and so they know it
meaning of all things, let them love and love one another.
Listen, if stars are still lit it means there is someone who needs them.
It means someone wants to love,
Why then do we feel so much pain and heaviness of heart?
are we waiting for something, regretting anything?
To whom I can strech out my hand in the somber desert ?
Who will accompany me on the empty night?
Who will give me a fiery day?
Who will bring back the sea that left?
No hope here. Torment is certain.
Without sacredness in the emptiness of this world of ours,
the heart of man fades like a flower.
no one standing—
a stone path digging deep
into the woods
*
warm on either side
beneath the clouds that loiter
in lustful haze
*
she came
in moments when the sun
reflected on the glass
*
water and light
reflected before moving on
to another day
*
stretching on
the rivers render the earth
from one moment to the next
*
her eyes show no one
as they open and close
