Poem From Your Village

by Priya Abularach

by Irma Pineda, co-translated by Priya Abularach and Wendy Call

And up here, the houses still crane for
something like you – back when
the world spun above their heads,
deep gold globe, those buildings
were organ-warm and flushed.
Now the sun is shadowed,
the whole length of a year away. I hear them ask,
who is home? who is home?

Once you disappeared through the mountains
All signs of life were lost with you –
They unspooled into the sea.
Your old village is mournful now,
And the dead ends of your absence leave me with only one passage,
Red like a body, opened.

Why is the village so pale?
Was it the silence that startled the dogs?
These streets lack their children,
And these roofs their robbers.
Look, even the birds have flown away …