Still

When the light goes down

unwrap dreams,

open the door,

disappears.

Its gaze melts into the dark,

its voice sings the lullaby,

extend the hand

and deliver,

the treasure,

the secret,

the heart,

still afraid,

still feeling

the echo of the howl in the memory,

the deep burning scar,

the rain of mockery and scorn.

Still delivers,

because still believes,

because waits,

that the pain someday receive the prize,

the risk, the reward.

Maybe this is the night

it’s still waiting.

Still.

Still hasn’t arrived.

Translated to English from: https://medium.com/@Inesmarrache/a%C3%BAn-22ce8d088fa3

For more translations: https://www.linkedin.com/in/karla-ver%C3%B3nica-becerra-s%C3%A1nchez-8646ba1ab/