POEMS FOR GRACE

My eyes contemplated you and the chaos that was stirred up was deeper than
all of the ocean precipices.
Your placid smile unleashead so much serotonine that the Tsar Bomba was
virtualy nothing in comparison.

This bursting was more stunning, more startling than the birth of a star, than
the death of a supernova or the demise of humanity itself:
All inextinguishable constelations collapsed.

My joy was ambitious; everything it roused surpassed my reticence.

In a gaze I gave you my innocence and you took her in,
it was the best you could receive from me.
I take shelter in our distress
like a child that knows he is to be aborted
and clings to life with all of his faint strength.
It is not enough.
I am exposed, vulnerable, naked, unarmed, guilty:
I realize I don't concern you fully, I don't belong to you purely
and thirst invades me.

I shall not stop looking at you, I can't.

All days went by,
we lived every context,
we inhabited each other,
we held the existence of the worlds.

Everyday life matters wouldn't end,

consciousness was lost every time we could;
the diagnosis was evident but sanity was not required.

Our strength prevailed

like the flickering lights of glowworms;
the glimmering luminosity it emanates
keeps every tardigrade alive;
to our strength belongs the ideal youth of the jellyfish,
its firm timeless swim.

Our spirit prevailed through every contact,

it gave us the inconceivable link to all humanity
that systematized the chaos
your stare stirred up.
Our yearning passed through our bodies
as if we didn't exist:
anguish, sobriety, Return were created.
Each time we grow distant
we break like skies break,
and collapse in utter poverty.
However, something composes us:
all neutrinos in the universe belong to us.

My gaze was fixed upon you, my gaze was quenched;

our anguish transcended.
I hoped to die like the brown antechinus,
I yearned to be his sole source of light, I wished for his voice to be the last
thing I heard.

How is it possible to be forever yours if you only bring me but an instant of

clarity?
How is it possible for him not to fully belong to me, if I've given him my
every virtue, my every weakness, the whole of my loyalty?
How can one demand clarity from intermittency,
space from precipices,
time from immortality?
How can you ask for all of that and not give me the abyss to which I could
jump?
How insolent of you to interrupt the tranquility with which the Tsar Bomba
blows up.

Beloved, can the necrosis of the soul be healed?

I break you like heavens break, my soul is dying.

My shaking made you cry; you didn't know that my every movement was to
be forever yours.
I shaped your expression. I wanted to inhabit your very own sight so I
wouldn't have to leave you, but you left and I was lost.

Where should I now look for the precipices you didn't give me?

Oh God, my soul!

My ego is susceptible, unleashed, corrupted.

Your thoughts don't concern me nor disturb me any longer.

Is it that you only see in me what you have desired in the past? The fragile and
pallid thoughts that don't match my features?
You justify everything with pretexts of intimacy, but don't I fully belong to
you?

I don't want you intimacy anymore, I'm suffocated.

Scorn is now all I have to give and I don't want anything in return. I'm
disgusted by your generosity.

Beloved, where is this god that all humanity dies for?

At this moment I know

I will be endlessly yours.

Lorena Enríquez Céspedes