frozen and thawing

frozen

the wind on the hills,

dogs barking down 

where the Douro flows,

the wind takes me

to feel frozen hands,

the pain when blood

moves into my fingers,

better to thaw slowly

i feel touching you

as if a frozen branch

from a tree in winter,

i take you in my hand

and feel you know

the pain of our blood,

and i shudder and think

i should leave you sleep

in your hard cold soil

where you can rest

in the snow at peace,

clear , without memory

i want to kiss you

alive for me, 

but must burn

in my fire, burn

until i am ashes

in this wind, 

here,

above the Douro

leaving pure and dead

with no burial

to be heard of or seen

to go into my own last light

where only God can find

my soul and give it

to the birds and the sky

and the flow of all

i looked now

now i looked at my hands

they helped to birth

they helped to die

they are as they are

experienced and innocent

as i am

and alone in this night

which may last and last

as i do: alone

when all is said and done.

nobody will miss me,

i can just go,

but then,

this is release,

final, tranquility

where not expected.

serenity not asked for,

mischievous smile

in my own silence

which is beyond

and beyond translation.

i will not be understood.

as each man: abismo es altura

as each man has cried

from cradle to grave,

as each one is ruled by fear,

the heart in stones

we must be brave:

that when we tried

to see where we fail.

then we must go

and sit under a tree

talk to the leaves,

the falling sun,

breathe into ourself

we must leave

all prisons, cages, walls,

must walk and walk

until we sleep

we must pray

that all heaviness

goes with the wind,

must pray for peace.

as each man has cried

from cradle to grave,

we must be on our knees,

pray and be brave

when all hope is gone

in the winter of soul,

spring will come

even when we die.

to give, to take,

to be, to forget,

all is one:

now.

it doesn't need a title: life has named it

it doesn't need a title

i don't know about 

the awareness of birds.

they seem ever alert

and resting in flight

how do they feel?

and how for me

could this distance

be a promiss

reaching the fields

in which i must walk

far from my love

who cannot come through

the masks and clothes

of this senseless loneliness?

down here where i found

and lost my heart

in the roads and rain

where we are lost

between shadows

or stand in neon light,

all seen in distortion,

longing changes into pain

when it was joy yesterday:

how,tell me, can i fly

and enjoy to look down

at all this tiny filth

and claustrophobic lice?

who will touch my heart

once i reach the clouds?

who knows that i want

to be held

when i touch the ground?