Читать книгу After Eden - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 7

I learned to walk the streets carrying pieces of the moon

in my pocket to light the dark, lumbering along the avenue

thinking about the Lord without a single piece of the promised land

priests talked about in mass and grandmothers whispered was closer

than my brother. I passed the troubled church bells not far from the lily shops

on Jerome Avenue and the windy spot where you dear brother lifted your eyes

to the Cathedral that forgot your name long before you sighed a last

good-bye. I learned to walk along disbelieving good news, aware the

filthy streets were closer to me than the sweetly silent Lord. I walked the

very block where you were delivered to the arms of death, stood quietly on

your exit stain beneath the stars, and said your name however foolish the

sound for the ears of the One who too expired before his time at your very

age in a place called Golgotha.