Otra vida de Derek Walcott
was your heaven! The clear
glaze of another life,
a landscape locked in amber, the rare
gleam. The dream
of reason had produced its monster:
a prodigy of the wrong age and colour”.
“there is no other secret
but a pain so alive that
to touch every ledge of that house edges a scream
from the burning wires, the nerves
with their constellation of cancer,
the beams with their star-seed of lice,
pain shrinking every room,
pain shining in every womb,
while the blind, dumb
termites, with jaws of the crabcells consume,
in silent thunder,
to the last of all Sundays,
“These dead, these derelicts,
that alphabet of the emaciated,
they were the stars of my mythology”.
“here was a life older than geography,
as the leaves of edible roots opened their pages
at the child's last lesson, Africa, heart-shaped”.
“Generations of waves,
generations of grass, like foam
petalled and perished in an instant”.
“I looked from old verandahs at
verandahs, sails, the eternal summer sea
like a book left open by an absent master.
And what if it's all gone,…
will always swing its lantern
and evening fold the pages of the sea,
and peer like my lost reader silently
between the turning leaves
for the lost names
of Caribs, slaves and fishermen?”