For my father, who is now eternal
A mi padre, que ya es eterno
Wendolyn Lozano Tovar
Translated by Jen Orenstein
In the pinesâ sleeping memory
one chill and humid morning
I wandered here.
You who gave me shelter
in your misty embrace
old forest
you knew I would return.
I am no longer that solitary boy
who planted a desire
in your mossy chambers.
You recognize me
my hands learned to read
along the ridges of your bark.
It was on these trails
that I faced my first crossroads
my feet moved fallen leaves
choosing my path.
You taught me all about music
the firs were bards
the moths, dryads.
And like a true father
you knew how to listen
in all of its tones
to the song of my enigmas.
I didnât know it then
but it was in that place of remote mystery
that like wind
I learned to blow.
This language that I now
speak with my children
as a butterfly speaks
to the oaks as she departs
You taught me all about silence.
Look at me, now I am more like the mist.
That dawn, I heard your call.
My last breath carried the scent
of your red earth.
Old friend: I have returned
to fulfill that desire
hidden in your moss-decked chambers.
The woman that I love
holds between her hands
so much more than my matter.
In her heart she knows
now I am more like her.
Hold me once more
like when I was a child.
Iâve finally found my home.
And now blowing in circles
I tousle the hair
on my grandchildrenâs heads
before flying on.
Canalejas Forest
Wendolyn Lozano Tovar es poeta y la autora del libro Tiempo de agua (Literal Publishing, 2011)
