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SoVi May 2018
Yo senti el miedo
Del mundo callendo
De mi pie quemandose
Mi madre en el suelo
Su pecho destrozado
Queriendo respirar
Corriendo en la casa
Quise alcanzar la puerta
Pero me queme mi mano
La figura de Cristo
Guardado en mi pescueso
Quemando mi piel
Arrastrandome en el pizo
Extendiendo mi brazos
Mirando el lumbre's luz
Contra la sombra del cruz



© Sofia Villagrana 2018
Poem for the Short Story Sombra de mi Cruz
PEARL PSYNATCH Jul 2019
Heard Doc Watson once.
Got a used banjo but the fingers just couldn't cut it
Got the music in me but ****** if I can get it out
Don't like crowds or audiences anyway.

Sometime even fear my close friends.
Don't stand up to their Atheism when it comes.
Science don't get faith and faith seeking proof dissipates.

But these atheist friends don't seem to contemplate the horror within
the mechanistic, physical progression from Big Bang to the end.

One can admire the astute, patient discoveries
about the mechanical; this still discoverable physical world.
Pizo electric charges allow interaction with
this transparent screen smart phone
laid on fingertips miracle

Me?
I get more excited by
The actions of mind upon matter.
I can get lost in the shape of a hammer
As I retrace from its form to conception.

An ancestor of mine once imagined
A tool of simplicity and force.
Created an extension that reached from the mind to the hand to the nail.
And when I heft my hammer in my hand and lift it to strike
The complete marriage of mind, human, tool, and history
Comes to bear on the head
Of that nail
(Whose story entwines with that ancient hammer).

— The End —