The secret garden
Part of my childhood hangs/ in the photographs on the wall/ my mother still looks at.// There are endless winter afternoons/ when time runs away/ while grandma/ looks out the window.// Her eyes are/ afraid of life.// They don’t know/ I lie when I kiss kiss/ into the telephone and say/ yes I’m fine, no news.// No-one knows/ that my mother’s hand sprout/ branches and prayers/ with beautiful petals, and, painfully,// a secret garden grows.
Sara Herrera Peralta - Translation into English: Terence Dooley. Cover photos: Samuel Capdeville
