Walking away

As I was reading Che Guevara’s motor cycle diaries I came across a poem by Otero Silva, that reflects my state of mind. That was an era when such people were common. Today such folks would be branded idiots and shunned down upon. Below the poem.

I heard splashing on the boat
her bare feet
And sensed in our faces
the hungry dusk
My heart swaying between her
and the street, the road
I don’t know where I found the strength
to free myself from her eyes
to slip from her arms
She stayed, crying through rain and glass
clouded with grief and tears
she stayed, unable to cry
Wait I will come
walking with you.

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