Washed Ashore Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Over the transatlantic distances,
I summon your oceanic soul
Like a night of prayer,
Yet, behind the towering height
Of the barricades,
Your wind wafts,
Ebbs,
And goes astray.

I tried to enclose this captivity
Between the night
And rainfall – yet only to find
That the sleaze winks in a plenitude
Of lonesome nights walking past
The windowpanes where the
People are tucked,
Safe from intrusions.

My barefooted soul strides
Over your thorny roads
And my calloused hands fret
Over the tassels of the darkness
That you have left -
You are out there in the cold
And you have denied the
Fire that I have to keep
You sheltered,
Warm
And otherworldly.

Now I watch the waves
Engulf the shores,
I gaze at the migratory birds
Abandoning the forests,
I glance at the steps
Engraved on the shore
Fade as the waves
Swept them in a fuming fury
Of your luscious waters.

Times passes unhurriedly
As the sea’s rocks take their
Places one by one -
They have occupied all that
Is left in your sea,
And these jagged rocks
Will never let me be.

The darkness flounders
Over the hills,
Coating the landscape
With terrifying shrills

I sleep alone beside your sea,
Soaked in the searing rain,
Blanketed by the dark absence
Of your eyes.