quarta-feira, 16 de setembro de 2015

The sleep of an angel

The angel in the sand
Seems to sleep
A weary sleep.

I wanted to see him playing,
I wanted to see him smiling,
I wanted to see him in his promised flight.
But the angel does not wake up,
Do not play,
Do not fly.

Who cut your wings?
Who was that erased the traces of your footsteps?
Who did shut your laughter?

I say and I claim
We were all of us;
Eyes closed,
Arms crossed,
All closed
For those who just wanted refuge
from a sincere affection.

Does the boundaries
There are in maps
They became walls
Separating men?
Why is it so hard
Open the chest
To give shelter
To others who suffer?

I wish I could, my little angel,
To take you in my arms
And sing you songs to wake up,
And whisper beautiful things
For your sweet dream.

But the little angel will not wake up,
We condemn, to him and to others,
The apparent sleep.

I know tell you, my little angel,
I'll never forget you,
Because otherwise I would be
Forgetting me
And who you are:
You are our children,
You are our future,
You are the debt
Accompanying us
And what it takes to pay off.
You will always child
In our retinas.

Now go, my little angel.
Rises up high to the stars
And they account for your stories,
What should have been and that made be.
Will run through the clouds
And singing of the birds,
Will laugh a loose laughter in the middle of the blue.

I only ask you, little angel,
To forgive men
And what if you can,
In your prayer,
My angel,
Dream for us.

Glaucio Cardoso
September 3, 2015

[i] In memory Aylan Kurdi, a Syrian boy who died at the age of three when he sought refuge from a war that was not his.

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