Every new dawn brought you
a glass of sea in a knot
of salt, which squeezed
your breath while you sang
to make the unbridled fear
fall asleep in a whisper.
And we know the distance
bled  on that shore of hardships
by your trembling steps.
When the bread was crumbled
into nothing by the fangs
of war, which eat and kill
at the same time.
But in the secret shelter
of the soul you kept
clenched to the deep
the only real treasure:
that sincere root of love
and its  sap drenched
in the heart of life.
Barefoot on a path of stones
and moss and bad weather,
to reach a glimmering sky
of unripe peace to grow
brighter than a moon nearby.