Absent Dominican
I was born on an island full of palm trees, Coconut and fruit.I was to my island the funny one,
The outlandish one of mixed races.
And in each dawn I would look for the heart of my island Quisqueya,
In all the places of devotion and sanctuaries
Even below the very abyss.
ON one night of a harsh wintery february,
I was separated from her.
And now in me,
In a cold dwelling with false heat,
I realize that you are no longer my possessor.
And not even rancor accompanied me in that long departure.
And in the absence of my chilhood, all my memories:
Mangü, like majarete,the,Criollo palate, died in me beneath the white snow,of a city of skyscrapers.
And I opened my soul and only saw
The red color of dried leaves in autumn as your mountains.
A drop rolled down my old and tired cheek through time,
As the color of your tropical sea, my beloved island.
I wanted to be faithful to nature, as the creator
had planted for all of us. Dominicans;
but I never again left my footprints when walking barefoot
Through the old pathways of my land,
To feel the steps of my ancestors, my dear Quisqueya.
I was the Judas that, with the old suffering of his infancy
I created a hate and became a bandit,
The one who sold out to his country and transformed
Into the ruffian who forgot his palm trees,
The free breezes of the Carribbean, the tamarind water
For the cold concrete and brick edices,
Without windows,
With only decomposed,false air.
I sold out to my golden orange
To view instead grey sunsets.
I lost the nobility,the love of a nation.
And for a few foreign coins
I sold out like any degraded soul of the street.
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