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And it will raise

The eagle to shake the earth wobbles,
plana sharply,
weeping wound,
has lost feathers.

The eagle can not swim in the mud but
fight head-on against the shocks of time.

The eagle is not content to fly at low altitude
and if it does so without fear of falls.

The eagle in the heart wood of the cross.

Even Jesus is not just for Easter in this rubble.

Dumbledore,
absent in an empty tomb.

The eagle will rise forever.

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I thought you were my body

I thought you were my body.
grew like my hair, nails
,
the hairs on his chest. I thought

I had my body. A whole
with my beats, synchronized
retraced my steps,
the same thoughts in my head.

But then I felt that my legs were,
the blood pumped from my mother,
light in the eyes of my father,
the sound of laughter from my son.

I thought you were my body.
But you were only a tingling in your arm is
just shake because you did not exist anymore.

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TODAY

I live very close to a soap bubble, where the sea
only comes down from heaven,
meeting faces of all ages and of all colors,
and London appears as a shadow behind a curtain. Every awakening is

a new day and a new day,
between a maze of colors and stops
my feet on the ground and yet I move,
among the skyscrapers and the names of unknown roads.

There are things I can do without, and new stimuli that are fuel
the evening I feel the weight of your absence,
there but your light shines like a diamond.

Every day is a new awakening and a new day,
between the labyrinth of your balls of silk,
dreams for hours every morning on my way back and you
Penelope remains my goal.