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they remember what their god whispered
into their ribs: Wake up and ache for your life.
into their ribs: Wake up and ache for your life.
Until then, we touch our bodies like wounds—
the war never ended and somehow begins again.
the war never ended and somehow begins again.
These Hands, If Not Gods
Haven’t they moved like rivers—
like glory, like light—
over the seven days of your body?
Haven’t they moved like rivers—
like glory, like light—
over the seven days of your body?
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ya lo había leído antes y reafirmo que, aunque decae por momentos, es un poemario precioso (ganó el pulitzer). la autora refleja su identidad como mujer nativa estadounidense y también menciona temas difíciles de abordar.
(con este poemario me doy cuenta que el trabajo de traducción es bien complicado, la verdad)
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