My Saramago
Even if you cannot enter, do not abandon me, even if you cannot see me, stretch out your hand, otherwise I will forget life, or it will forget me. I’ll look at your shadow if you don’t want me to look at you. I wish to be wherever my shadow is, if that is where you are looking. –Jose Saramago
had it not been for the color of his eyes
i wouldnt have been able to see him.
he was holding in his hands a long covered
bridge. his brow was like a shirt that had
been folded three times. his mouth
unaged rent his face like waters disperse.
his words had gone below ground where
gods listen. he came to be swarthier, and
darker, to always lessen the light. all the
same, he fought nights fall. his face was
not resigned like a lamb who is all legs
on the altar, but rather like someone
who had been given a bowl that
would not break during his life.
Bree aka Zlee Zlee
Magnificent! “his words had gone below ground where/ gods listen”! I also enoyed learning about who he was.
thanks mucho
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