AUTORA: Ana María López ExpósitoTHE WORDS IN THE GARMENT OF HORRORWords smell like gunpowder on the streets of Ukraine. They hide in corners, fear grips them.Terror has settled in his body. Many of them have frozen in rainy February and outraged.People spread wings to cross the border,barbed wire and explosions disturbpaths hampered by shattered debris.Iron bumblebees gossip with each other.The passions of Kiev have locked themselves in the tomb, haggard,and go through the windows of Parliament and neighborhoods.Winter flees with a mummy vest and is lost in the fog with horror installed in the soul.No one bangs on doors in the middle of the night anymore.I don’t see the backs of whales jumping,They have huddled in the algae.Nations and poets cut the hair of war.The Russian missile has become schizophrenic andact without responsibility.Third day of the invasion.The subway has become a home for children and the wounded.Tire barricades have been transformed into statues to stop the enemy.black siege nightIn the city… the stars don’t shineonly his regret. His tears make clay out of shrapnel.Those involved drink a cocktail of peace…Meanwhile, heaven asks for help and prayer.Has international responsibility gone to the moon?
