Ensacado

mills don't move winds
departures are not just handkerchiefs
longings are not sobs
nor a solution to waiting
nor salvation from sins
sadness doesn't wash dishes
safeguarding remnants of desires
flowers and fruits of evil

so be very careful
burn with fever and don't fold
never break, don't die
don't chase the past

don't even try the period
endure the sting
of the bee, of that old
sticky melancholy

hold on, reheat
the broth of the cold soup
cultivate the seed
until one day it bursts
the bag full of sun