Buitres rodean su presa Esperan, desean Avaricia putrefacta derraman. Incertidumbre se huele En el ambiente. Mas la presa Como montaña Serena ante el ludibrio, Contempla el rechiflido De los coloridos grillos.
Cántaros de lluvia caen Enlodando por cuanto pase. Los arboles bailan sin cesar El chubazco no deja Ni siquiera mirar.
Que canten Que bailen Que se empapen Y cieguen Hasta el cansancio.
Cuando la tempestad Esté por terminar La montaña Será la única Sin ahogar Y en su lugar.
Rosalva Ruiz (SuperNova)
Born in Weslaco, Texas in 1981. As an introvert, she realized that her best way to express her in-depth thinking with people is by writing. Some of her works have been published in “ECHOES, AN ATHOLOGY” by MPL Writing Circle, The Chachalaca Review, Gnashing Teeth Publishing and Prachya Review. Some of her other works are written in her personal blog https://theendthereforethebeginning.com . Other than that, she is just a regular mom.
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