Today's poem is by Francisca Aguirre
Because we do not own anything,
not even the vague shadow of the future
that perverted our dutiful childhood.
Because we are not the owners of anything,
not even of our own pain
at which we have looked with awe so many times.
Because, without a doubt, to have is not ours,
but what is ours is to dream desperately
that we have everything at our fingertips,
of this stubborn hand that names us
with greater harshness than a surname.
We are the owners of wishing everything: what sadness.
We are the owners of fear, dust, smoke, the wind.
Copyright © 2004 Ana Valverde Osan All rights reserved
BOA Editions Limited
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily
Sponsor Verse Daily!
Web Monthly Features
About Verse Daily
Submit to Verse Daily
Publications Noted & Received
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved