top of page
Dark Transparent.png
Screenshot_2024-01-13-17-13-44-474_com.g
Edition #11
Whispers of the Lost Time
Luciana Pontes
Edited by Rosie Peters-McDonald

I write as someone who says goodbye

I write as someone who says goodbye

waving to the next sixty years

I write as someone who forgets

the square, the road, the wind

 

I draw, for time, a poem,

oh time… move on.

the rest I stumble through the streets

 

a clock hits my chest

and one day I realize

sixty years have not passed

twenty-four hours have passed

and the astonishment continues

 

I dreamed of planting branches in the most distant field

living with the crows, with the dust and with the poets

I dreamed of escaping the world as soon as possible

hurling myself far away from the abyss

far, far away,

where there is only a dirt road

I still walk the path,

my boots torn, the sun on my temples

the indeterminate trail of the interior of Bahia

I walk, we walk

I wake up to time, every day

it doesn't tire, but I do,

I tire of experiencing its anguish,

its inexorable routine

 

oh time... end the torment

I live sixty years in one day

pexels-miguel-á-padriñán-68562_edited.jpg
Patreon-logo.png
GoFundMe_logo.svg.png
bottom of page