Black Hideous Mournings (María Whatever)

 

We pray for you, our Mother Tongue
dear Starving Earth, Forgotten Son
María Whatever.
To be heard, to let them know
where we are in this planet,
to ask them

where are we on history textbooks.
WE,
unanswered questions
unwhispered secrets
black hideous mournings
The Past Tense, in full meaning.

We sent our blood to meet you in the forest
dripping deep deep down into the woods
Shall the snow melt uncovering our accent
Shall this Earth recall its thirsty roots.

We hope our words rise shiny green
over the rotten soil on your graveyard
We hope the rain nurture our bones
and bring the colors back to this day.

Shall our voices crash     into the mountains
and greet your fears
finally
weeping
drowned gently
by the river.

-Francisco Benavides

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The Wishing Well

Your face on the cover
all of your wishes reflecting the nothingness.
Empty eyes, voices around you
trembling
barely talking. The sun is gone,
plastic shines
over your skin. All of a sudden
a fly
knocking at your door.

Who is the stranger, who’s the thief?
You ripped out your own wings
craving for a new despair.
Over and over
again and again
you spent all your honey.
Empty pockets, broken soul
not a single gaze for Charon
not a coin for the wishing well.

-Francisco Benavides