THE CHILDREN

… in my neighborhood violets grew;

eternity vibrated like an instant of light, like a dewdrop,
as if suddenly all things had emerged pure, untouched, and perfect
into the light of innocence;

[thus, one day, the tyrannical witch flew by with her broken broom, and fell rolling for being both tyrannical and witch;

and, another day, a man laughed and laughed because one afternoon, in the middle of the plaza, Christ was talking with us]
… in my neighborhood we cried and burned easily,
the world broke and we put it back together because, without knowing it,
we were the tin and also the bronze and the fire of life;

… when I left it, I cried;

Now, there are days when I look at the children in their habitat of love and, then, with affection,
I feel within me, as my own, the man of laughter, the tyrannical witch, and the immortal patina of the violets;

but nothing, nothing is as deep and clear to me as that subtle murmur with which we burned through the hours and the streets:
the hyper-galactic voice and light of Christ.

***
Antonio Justel
https://oriondepanthoseas.com
[Available: “Todos los fuegos” - Casa del Libro and Amazon: https://amzn.eu/d/1vWd028]
***