Walking to and fro
Taking it gently. Talking with silence.
He carries bags that have maps
Maps of numbers
Maps of heart beatings
Maps of sleepless nights
He carries bags that have smells
Smells of closeness
Smells of ink
Smells of stops
Walking to and fro
Taking it gently. Talking with silence.
He carries bags that have winds
Winds of sound
Winds of stone
Winds of Atlantic waves
He carries bags that have numbers of time
Numbers of time trying
Numbers of time flying
Numbers of time re-arranging
Walking to and fro
Taking it gently. Talking with silence.
Pushed out to live
Pushed out to his first forced sonorous scream
Crossing hands. Crossed legs.
He waits. Waits.
He carries an invisible bag
The bag that weights the most.
Taking it gently. Talking with silence.
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