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  • Writer's pictureSam Baker

From the Sea and the Bells

Matilde, years or days

sleeping, feverish,

here or there,

gazing off,

twisting my spine,

bleeding true blood,

perhaps I awaken

or am lost, sleeping:

hospital beds, foreign windows,

white uniforms of the silent walkers,

the clumsiness of feet.

And then, these journeys

and my sea of renewal:

your head on the pillow,

your hands floating

in the light, in my light,

over my earth.

It was beautiful to live

when you lived!

The world is bluer and of the earth

at night, when I sleep

enormous, within your small hands.

-Pablo Neruda


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