INWARDS

Dear friend

Brought, I, by clowny echoes

flailing around the streets

carrying stories, records

from places that could be

highways of heartless heroes

driving across a sea

I find a faceless being

looking, ashamed, at me

as though my deepest screams

were trying to defeat

the weakened rest of hope

that a lonely fate can seize

Then, a whispery cry draws

your silvery face on it

Alejandro Olivares Rodríguez