I wish never to be parted from you,
for even when the gods call
for the dimming of your light,
alongside you shall I be embraced
by the same earth that welcomes us back
after having let us walk its surface.
Your light is recoiling.
Darkness stands in your wake,
and unchallenged, it reigns.
The gods have summoned you.
‘A path to trail alone’, I care not.
Shall we go?
I suppose I ought to mourn the loss of my own life,
grieve, for I am never again to see the sun yield to the stars,
rage, for I am never to feel the sand caving under my feet,
weep, for songs will not follow me underground,
go mad for the loss of the breeze that my skin greedily drinks.
I suppose. I suppose. I suppose. And yet.
Your eyes were ripped from you,
I shall carve mine out to match your unseeing ones.
I will wrap myself around you, become the skin that was taken from you.
Your ears were never to hear the world again, neither will mine.
Never will I breathe the air that does not travel to your lungs,
for your throat was deprived from ever taking another breath.
Do the gods not understand?
I will never be severed from you.
Darkness has come to claim you,
I will claw my way through
the dirt of this earth to join you.
For even in death, I shall follow you.
A dark caged kingdom,
yours to rule, mine to obey.
Let me feed off the lingering air
that clings to your mauled lungs.
Let me lay next to you in this buried bed,
wherein life never truly abandons you.
I want spring to come,
softly coax flowers to bloom from your body,
lure your thirst for me to drip from your cold, lilac lips.
Death shall not do us apart.
We will remain eternal, untouched by ephemeral life.
May winter arrive furious by your perseverance.
May the gods roar at your defiance.
It matters not. It matters not.
You dread oblivion. You need not fret.
For history will forever bow down to its knees
to confess just how endless and unforgettable you are.
Texto de Joane Xiewei de la Huerga, primer premio del XII certamen de poesía en modalidad inglés.