My Heart, a Bitter Cherry by Gloria Diéz

My heart
a bitter cherry,
hung beneath the sun in spring.
My blood,
red sap
that satisfies itself
around a
black-green seed.

Autumn is here, extending
its roots
towards the unique point
where my stem is,
keeps me alive
and still suffering.

The void at my feet
like a lover
who patiently waits
to receive me.
Who knows
if one day
or another, or another,
he will have me:
amber at last,
mature and transparent,
fit to die or to be re-born.

Gloria Diéz

From Troubled Times, 20th Century Spanish Poets, Prospice 15: Edited/Translated by J.C.R. Green, Albert Rowe, & Sandra MacGregor Hastie.

Author: Workers' Archive

Covering sensitivity at work and beyond on my website:

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