La Tombre Sin Nombre
La Tumbra Sin Nombre
The Unmarked Grave
The mother of plantains and holy thoughts
She shifted in the underbrush to avoid the guerilla
Still, now she is bones and a cross necklace.
'One day the evil will not rule and she will rise.'
Un dia el mal no va a globema y que se elevara.
From the dust.
From the dirt..
No singing songs of mourning.
The song then a song fit for Lazarus and for life
healed and returned.
The pure throat.
The innocent throat.
Oh, her beautiful black feet dancing once again.
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Comments about this poem (La Tombre Sin Nombre by Romella Kitchens )
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