Oh, what a grave mistake!
I can’t retrieve,
My soul forever carried
By a limbo of memories and hopes.
I’ve become but the shadow
Of my long deceased self.
Mirrors don’t recognize my features,
I don’t recognize them either.
I am but a mild reflection of those times,
Though distorted it may be.
My eyes, now fond of the aridity,
Lower their gaze from a glorious beige;
They are ashamed,
For a grave mistake they have made.
Lord! Have they fallen in love?
Perhaps I’ve learned to love
This barren soil beneath me,
The brownish, unearthly sand
Burying my feet and dreams.
The children born from the sand
Too embody my direst misfortune.
Those brutes!
How dare they exist?
This sentiment which I hold deep within-
Disgust, remorse.
The sons and daughters
of the blazing sun.
They have been my curse!
I blame them, and only them
For falling in love.
I blame him, and only him
For making me grasp what love is not.
Covered heads, unwieldy hairs;
Olive trees and olive minds;
Sun-kissed skins:
Why have you conquered me?
I decry this land,
For it has captured my heart.
Oh, what a grave mistake!
For I could never forget
The sand caressing my toes,
The vehement sun biting my eyes,
And those brutes penetrating
My feeble soul.
This poem comes from the most pleasurable experience of my life: moving to the valley of sand.
