Synopsis:
The coup by Franco’s forces plunged Spain into a civil war. A genocide was committed against the people; many families are still searching for their missing relatives. This poem is dedicated to all those who have disappeared and to the poets Miguel Hernández and Federico García Lorca.
to historical memory---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Material should not be published in another periodical before at least one year has elapsed since publication in Whispering Dialogue. *أن لا يكون النص قد تم نشره في أي صحيفة أو موقع أليكتروني على الأقل (لمدة سنة) من تاريخ النشر. *All content © 2021 Whispering Dialogue or respective authors and publishers, and may not be used elsewhere without written permission. جميع الحقوق محفوظة للناشر الرسمي لدورية (هَمْس الحِوار) Whispering Dialogue ولا يجوز إعادة النشر في أيّة دورية أخرى دون أخذ الإذن من الناشر مع الشكر الجزيل
There are names born from smoke
with perforeted skulls,
that need the stones removed
that bother them in their shoes,
the dust on their clothes
and knots of worms in their throats.
Murdered at night,
the wind with its left hand
hit the layers, the faces,
and far, far away from here,
the king of Harlem cries, cries.
Lime and time
wear the same tunic,
stained with death and cognac.
It is dangerous to unravel the space
of a white sheet of paper under the frost.
Who will collect the words
from the shadows without record,
without refuge?
Over the vertices of the satin sky
the labyrinth of doubt.
