Someday I will die,
and even if they send my soul to the heavens,
I know I will be forever homesick.
For sure I will be longing for my days on earth,
remembering old surprising scarlet red sunsets
preceding soft nights where happily I had met
so lovely and unforgettable women, sisters that
our race has refined in such a beauty never seen
anywhere or anytime else.
Longing for a world made by ourselves, humans
full of many faults, sins and mismatches; stripped
from gifts inherent to a God or a Creator, however
never lacking incessant and true-hearted a love.
Longing for the smell of wet ground from which
our ancestors once were created;
longing for the birds’ carols perched on trees
where indomitable free winds sway their leaves
and also leave their song;
longing for the days of glory on winning struggles
once we had supposed were lost.
Longing for a man once alive who believed
he could one day be a king in his kingdom.
© Edilson Afonso Ferreira
About the Author
Mr. Ferreira, 73, is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese, having been published in venues like Right Hand Pointing, The Lake, Spirit Fire Review, The Provo Canyon, Red Wolf Journal, Whispers, Indiana Voice Journal, Synesthesia, Algebra of Owls and some others. Ferreira lives in a small town (Formiga (MG) with wife, three sons and a granddaughter and is trying to publish his first Poetry Book by the coming year of 2017. He began to write at age 67, after retirement as a Bank Manager. Has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize 2016.
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