How many nights mornings must come
In darkness and misty fear
How many times must the hammer land before
The nail remembers, stiffens and
Says "no more"
I will not be a refugee from my story
I will arise
And bear witness to my life and skin
I will settle under the blood red summer sunset and this
Drop-eyed moon to
Walk with my ghosts, my tribe
Until my duende
Like Ulysses
Returns
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such pride Guillermo; but a good pride. Very nice :)