Convergences
Descrição da editora
Convergences
The Trace of Water
The first crack didn't come with a bang,
It was a quiet, almost shy entrance,
a thin line that marked the wall,
like a wrinkle on the face of a city that ages prematurely.
I noticed her one evening, as the humidity
He started watering the joints,
making the concrete look like a sponge
that absorbs our silences.
Water, that persistent visitor,
found its way through the cracked foundations,
a trace that reminds of the tears that were not said,
a wet reminder that home,
Our fortress was just an illusion.
The stream, opposite, grew wilder with every storm,
bringing with it the mud of the forgotten,
depositing vanity at our steps.
I now realize that the familiar is being deconstructed ,
not from a great disaster, but from decay,
from the indifference that let the water run
free in the veins of the building,
eroding the static nature of our existence.
Cement, once a symbol of strength,
he is now drowning in his own despair.
Every morning, the smell of mold greets me,
an invisible curtain that closes the windows,
And I wonder if the walls will hold,
if our patience is enough
to support the weight of a roof
who has learned to creak in the winds of fear.
Moisture in the foundations
The soil drinks the rain with thirst long ago;
the stream swells, a dragon with mud in its teeth.
The first ravines open up in the walls,
my home, a sinking ship that is still.
The moisture creeps in like creeping ivy;
a signature that leaves water on the walls.
Peeling paint
Like skin that burns and falls to the floor,
the paint betrays the age of tolerance.
Underneath the paint, the concrete is bare;
a wrinkle on the face of the aging city.
It's not the weather's fault, it's the soul of the materials' fault;
who refuse to bear the burden of silence.
The level of silence
The water rises in the basement of memory;
It drowns out the boxes of photos, the old promises.
We are all shipwrecked in a city without a sea;
only sewers that overflow at night.
The level of anxiety is measured in centimeters;
My future is getting wet and cannot dry.
