Luz Machado
POEM ON THE THRESHOLD I appear before the storm with a mirror of roses in my hands. Why should I run if lightning is a fugitive sky and a wounded archangel rides in thunder? I appear before the storm with my eyes open and receive the message of genesis in the rain. The sea under my feet saves blue panthers. The foam on my knees saves gold snakes. The air against the chest saves beautiful ghosts and suffocates maidens and lyres in the night. High is the wall, high. The sea rises and speaks to me. And in my hands it hides its brackish stars. -Where are the men and love between them? High is the wall, high. Solitude responds. -Lend me childhood’s fan of grass. The wall is tall, tall. The clouds conquer it. -Who hides the towns of light in their belt? The wall grows and grows and I barely see the air. Solitude is a village with bells and tonight the statues agonize. Break, my soul, your mirror of roses with my hands. Death made a blue mask with the storm. (1950)