(Narrow alley, Córdoba, Spain)
photo & poem © Jesús Montero
GROUND ZERO + 2
The memories of my past
Revisit me at this hour.
Like ghosts.
They come
Knocking on my door.
Long awaited.
The hands of my watch
Revisit every second
Of every hour.
Painfully.
Anticlockwise.
A waterfall of tears
Floods
Every inch of the ground,
Satiating all the ache
That has been
There, embedded
Through the years.
Leaving behind
An impeccable void.
My very own
Ground Zero.
Suddenly
The clouds break,
Letting the sun shine.
In tiny,
Little whispers.
The scent of fresh, new grass
Dawning in front of mine eyes.
Like a lullaby.
photo & poem © Jesús Montero
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