It has been three weeks since I walked away,
it has been three weeks since silence has been pronounced,
it has been three weeks since white turned black,
since a cloak covered every sound.

And so then, it started to rain, softly,
scratching every sign of kindness,
undertaking a bohemian life,
a squalid journey.

An ocean was formed, with tears was it sodden.
It’s waves began to wail, a threnody they wove.

Within a poem I express my grieve,
within a song I cry my pain,
and with endless doubts, I clamor and pray,
for all to reach a bay.

J. G. Manzano

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