Children of the Sun and the Wind
We still live on the corners
of the nothing
between the north and the south of the seasons.
We still sleep
embracing stone pillows
like our fathers.
We follow the same clouds
and we rest beneath the shadow of the bare acacias.
We drink down tea with sips of fire,
we walk barefoot so as not to frighten the silence.
And in the distance
on the slopes of the mirage
we still watch, like every evening
the sun setting on the sea.
And the same woman who pauses
at the lookouts of the dusk
in the centre of the map greets us.
She greets us and is lost
in the eyes of a child who smiles
from the lap of eternity.
We still wait for the following dawn
to start once more.