In the Twilight of the Rural Soul

 A poem for Aguirre Central Historic District 

In the twilight of the soul, the poet weaves his laments,

stitching farewells upon farewells, seams in the fabric of time.

Morning aroma, balm in the storm,

peace awakening in the heart of turbulence.

Blows of life, echoing with force,

mercy in shades of gray,

the blood of Christ spilled, a quiet redemption.

Somewhere, the poet envisions his next verse,

an aged technique, a rescued image, divine penance.

Caribbean, island-born, a lullaby of laments,

the jíbaro emerges, his faithful love in the dawn,

a woman strong, magisterial, guardian of the land.

He writes not to be remembered, but to remember.

He sings not to be heard, but so the silence does not consume him.

He stands at the shore, where waves erase footprints,

but never the journey.

-ER

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