Читать книгу Breathing Space - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 21

we live on a street that tells

time without clocks, the weeks

going by find us fumbling for

bolstering words to be carried

in the pockets of worn paints. we

wonder why the bells in the tower

of the local church watching over

us never stop the days that darken

our tender hearts. often, we gather

on the rooftops of old tenements

to stare at the evening stars, resolve

with gentle conversation the weight

of fearful ventures to work booked

for ICE raids. we take turns in poorly

furnished apartments lighting candles

to plead for heaven to quickly satiate

our thirst, eradicate hunger, bring an

end to poverty and prison bars. some

days, we fiercely pray out loud for better

days to come imagining the border crossing

like fruit pulled from Eden’s best giving

tree.