last poem

running next to the train tracks

leaves no place for fear to

follow.

chasing other emotions of pleasure, joy and happiness.

The breeze of the ocean running in the opposite direction:

the lavender leaning in prayer

and the sun.

That city survived a war.

And to bury it underneath,

it swallowed molotovs and guns

and the screams and drums

all under the night skies.

How can I love a stricken city?

I should just escape

so I run

and as I was running next to the train

I found beauty in the freedom of the wind

and the gaviotas.