From Eagle or Sun? (¿Águila o Sol?)


Slowly,
inch by inch,
year after year,

I carve
a path
through solid rock.

For ages
my teeth have worn away,
my fingernails have broken,

trying to reach
the far shore,
the light,
the open air.

And now,
with my hands bleeding
and my teeth
ready to crumble,

inside a hollow
carved
by thirst
and dust,

should I stop
and look back
at what I have made?

I have spent
the second half of my life
breaking stones,
piercing walls,
tearing down gates,
clearing away
every obstacle

that I myself
placed

between the light
and me

during the first half
of my life.