S P A C E

1

Everything I said was a lie, but

only God can judge us.

So the small birds fly,
with bare feet and curls falling apart.
The edge of the dress had reached the floor
when the light of the sun prolongs the shadow.

There are names born from the lips of an anxious mother,
like a prayer swallowed by the echoes of hallway aisle rocks.
Someone may have followed us in the dark
to steal our hope.

Hurry, do not be late little angel,
before the night is heavy
and dreams become solid.