Looking at the dead
At peace now no matter the rude turn
Their departure took them
A question lives on
It can not die
What is your story, difunto?
No longer amongst us
Yet here you lie
You are gone and do I dare
Ask who took your life?
There are none to say
If there are
There are none to take the chance
Their fate will integrate with
La mala destina
De ese difunto
De remedio no hay
Move on…Move on
The dead tell no lies and all
The truth that remains in their remains
In the end will
Fade and be forgotten
Even memories fall away
But sometimes the now phantom tongue
Moans and accuses in its cage of bleached bone
And a trembling shudder rises from the ground
Shakes the offices from whence the death orders come
From mansions to slums, to redoubts and safe-houses
The curses climb and climb to those most high
Suites of the executivos
That rise from the pines of Mexico
To the mountains
Of Maryland
Ghost whispers scream into the night.
