Para Mañana

For tomorrow

I want to die one afternoon
with the sun in my veins.
To be my blood in the ceiba trees,
to be my hands in their branches,
that maybe with a warm breeze
will turn time into a guitar.

I want to kiss the beginning
of a night that hasn’t been kissed.
Climb into the slow fog,
inaugurate the vidala,
break into tears up there,
become dew at dawn.

A simple, humble seed I will be.
I’ll shine among the total earth
to sprout from the mud.
Final womb of my shadow.
I’ll be a field, I’ll be a river,
forever song and guitar.

To be in the burning wine
of the nameless bagualero.
Wake him from his days;
mature an open chest for him
be in his scream the magic
that mourns a pain so real.

To open myself in six paths
to age in the light.
To gather those six destinies,
wood for a new sun,
that will light up the dawn
in my night of goodbye.