"In Memoriam" by Lourdes Espínola

Albert Camus

Meursault with the sun in his eyes,
and humanity.
Confrontation,
dichotomy
everything from the prism faraway:
suicide and the remainder.
Impossibility,
indifference,
mutilation of fears, guilt, dreams:
rite
daily and precise.
The same ending, but not beyond,
and the day so radiant.

And again I can feel alive
the sleeping nerves
killed by age-old hands.
When will men learn
not to...? The flayed heart
and the waiting.

When
the marked date?
To sink into the mature
fresh knot of your mouth
and be born under
delayed tenderness.