I don't know if the poet's dreams are inert,

if dishonesty surpasses the truth

 

I don’t know If before that twilight

the hours paused 

and their shrieks burst out

 

I grope my way along the road,  

finding a dungeon at every step;

the voice of hatred surrounds me like fire

taking root very close to me...

 

I don't know what I want to be and for what;

in what or who to believe in

 

I don't know if my unconfessed desires, 

some free spirit interprets them, I don't know;

the light of my childhood is far behind me

 

I only know of days lined with vast chains;

that life, buried under a cruel merciless might,

floods me with emptiness.

 

I wake up with three things tattooed on my soul;

a sky covered with clouds of blood, 

an undulating road of crevices and mud,

and a magical moon shining in darkness

 

I am compelled to seek the impossible in this murky struggle,

hoping that beneath the ashes of rancor

forgiveness will arise

 

©Noris Roberts