El Búho

In the night I hear them
call, Move in the dark, their
shapes unfold, In these eyes I
quiver, darker still In closed doors.
Don’t speak like you were there,
One is here, I feel
its stare Rumoured still,
and hidden by the sightless
Who have seen.
If I lay my head down, Don’t
blame the light’s power, Or those
who claimed it from me.
This time I’m torn, please wake
me if I lose that face. Search in
these eyes. There’s still fire in the
darkness And rooms of light.
Still I dream in greens and
blues, Days that break and skies
that move, Memory’s eyes that
quiver, Bound in spheres of milk
and glass. Don’t speak like you
were there, One is here, I feel its
stare Rumoured still, and hidden
by the sightless Who have seen.
If I lay my head down, Don’t
blame the light’s power, Or those
who claimed it from me.
This time I’m torn, please wake
me if I lose that face. Search in
these eyes. There’s still fire in the
darkness And rooms of light.