Raquel Markus – Finckler @etrabajora.creativa.
Diffuse draws the rainbow its profile
on the freshly bathed mountain
of water and light,
of singing and dancing,
of death and screaming.
Diffuse the promise of not repeating another flood
stays floating in the air,
In view of all.
Noah is no longer there.
Who then will be able to demand compliance
of that old alliance?
The rainbow is melted into the landscape,
like a neon sign that goes out
on an old road that few people use anymore
without a chill down your spine,
without a tear on the cheek,
without mourning in the soul.
The universal flood returns to my eyes
tired of scanning the horizon, exhausted from searching for an act of kindness,
a little sanity, a gesture of gentle humanity towards my loved ones,
towards the dead, the wounded, towards those who are still alive.
I wonder if the bright colors
of the outlined rainbow
in the evening sky
from this sleepless country
They also dream,
They also long,
They also miss…
the time of utopia,
the peace that never nestled,
the drought of tears
and the silence of the cannons.
In the distance the howl of my pack recites forgotten prayers.
My wolves lick each other's newly sown wounds,
They shake off the fury that other people's gazes show them
and they sink their footsteps even deeper into our land.
As a people we have to continue dreaming that, one day,
God's promise in heaven will be divined again.
It will arrive drawn between the translucent drops
of a renewed rainbow of luminous colors.
For now, I don't see a wooden ark that will support us all,
nor that carrier pigeon to save us from pain.
For now I continue walking with the deluge in my eyes.