When life goes away,
nothing stops, the face changes itself,
shows the shade of death.
When life goes away,
and nothing nourishes it, the back bends,
the color is lost.
When life goes away,
the glance vanishes, only fear is seen,
confronting the end that has come too soon.
When life goes away,
walking is unsteady, the forehead doesn’t stay up,
the years are heavy, suffering makes one coward.
When life goes away,
the figure no longer matters, what happens no longer matters,
who looks at you, no longer matters.
When life goes away,
breathing is labored, breathing deep,
perhaps to perceive the taste of what remains.
When life goes away,
the grip no longer matters,
there is no drift wood to grab.
When life goes away,
hope is lost,
there is no breath left to come back.
When life goes away,
in every step taken, strength is lost,
and every uncertain step goes on the road to the grave.
Ricardo Vidal
