Ricardo Stern


Holy Friday

Waiting for something
like a life, the life, mi life, anything
resembling something more than only the wait.
Are heroes patient or impatient?
They are just, but tragedy awaits them.
I feel like a testy kid
when I go out to the backyard of my own past;
the leaves of its young oak have burgeoned in the last days.
And I feel inexact, openly inexact;

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