A RIVER

It could be a huge river
A ride of paws, a tumult, a fury
A rage ripped off a torn stem
A very high scream

But also a tiny weed for returns
The collapse of a pine cone burnt in the flame
A hand that touches the passage
Or indecision staring without seeing

Anyway, something that we cannot lose
Even if everything else is lost
And that we will perpetually celebrate
Because everything arises from that alone

But before we get there
First poverty as profound as leprosy
And the cheated curses and true death
What a credit to forget vain
Or disguised as a revolution
The school of joy is full of tears and blood
But also of eternity
And from the vanished mouths of the saints
As the hedges of March the truths shine.