ODE TO CUBA
G. Padron Sarmiento

The yielding, weary wall will not hold me
For I know you are there, waiting.
You cry for me at night though I cannot hear it,
And you cry for me in the day though I choose not to listen,
But I will find you, at my convenience.

Until then, let my doting words and green gazes
Keep you grave and wanting.
Let me keep your desire alive and the pain dull.
And let me pray you’ll still be there
When the yielding wall falls.

After all,
Who are they to tell me this isn’t a better world
When simply believing it will make it so?