I continue to believe that I have a truth to come.
I know that everything is shit now-a-days, and I know that I am not the result of the beautiful.
I know I see the total abstinence of ethics, consuming me, consuming us.
I keep wanting to bet on my indignation.
keep wanting to bet on my “apoetics” (or dispoetics?).
I don’t know how to be a poet in this world of vomit. I don’t know how to anymore.
I have anger and disgust for this robbery. For this amnesia of honest work.
Of honest politics .. Of the true love for what is right.
Today I had a small renovation … A spiritual renewal, one could say.
A song … A mantra:
“My love, this is the last prayer to save your heart ..
The heart isn’t as simple as you think:
In it fits what doesn’t fit in the pantry.
In it fits my love, fits three lifetimes!
In it fits a dresser…
In it fits the two of us, in it fits my love …
… This is the last prayer to save your heart .. “
Click on the text in orange to hear the song by A Banda Mais Bonita da Cidade that inspired this poem.
Read this poem in the original Portuguese HERE.
Read more poetry by Angel Raiter HERE.
Bonnie McClellan-Broussard 