Archer’s paradoxes

“Like arrows in the warrior’s hand, so are the children”.

Psalm 127.4

“Like arrows in the warrior’s hand, so are the children”.

Psalm 127.4

Ah! This emptiness so dense and heavy

From fresh and light souvenirs!

Of hugs and kisses, of their scents,

Voices, screams, racket.

From so many conversations

Of projects and affections…

How the emptiness weighs!

Bows we tense
For many,
Few and delicious,
Years,
feeling every vibration
From wood and rope,
The shaking of rod and arrow,
Their movements and searches,
Changing targets and directions.

Until suddenly
We understand:
The arrow will go.

So, already old warriors
Proven in so much struggle,
So much fall, so much back,
Thinking we have
Hardened,
Weakens the arm and chest
And it flies by itself.

Suffering, anguish,
Made of joys,
Omens.

The heart becomes small
For so much love and affection.
And little it runs
Runs fast
Travels journeys through times, spaces,
To in the distant arrow
Shed your load and blessings.

There is no more bow or rope;
Left with this well-used arrow

That from dear bows
One day it also flew.

I aimed arrows, five.
Tried to give them direction
With no narrowness
Line or plane;
In multiple spaces
with light borders
Woven by wanting well.

One, so light and fragile,
Disappeared on the Heavens.
Others and another
Built their paths
Ready and sent
Their arrows
From their baskets or adopted.
Far or close
Even though in right landing,
Of each
I have a little heart
Huge, tight, crammed,
Of love and affection,
Of blessings that flow from them
At each souvenir.

Ah! dears,
All left a void
Also full
Of the weight of so many memories!

Behold, already in advanced
Age, weaker,
The thing repeats itself.
House full of voices,
Friends,
Shouts, speeches, wanderings,
Affections, hugs,
Full of you,
Full of memories
That empty it, cloud
My day.
My silent night
Empty!
You went, my arrow,
Once again for another
Distant target
Where do I look for it,
I dream, imagine,
Stoppings and journeys
In which we are together.
Even if a dream, or whatever,
Relieves the hollow in which your departure
Transformed this house of mine.
And I go flying, sailing, with you,
Hopping that on each arrival
At each port, at each point,
Hear your voice, see your face,
At least one message
Telling me
Where you are and how.

And in this arid vacuum
On witch memories
in abundant harvest
crams,
I suffer from joy
Seeing this offspring of mine
More and more a man,
intrepid, happy, secure,
Search your spaces, your future,
Strong, beautiful, smart,
Indez of good things,
Growth and achievements.
Oh!
How the emptiness weighs!