IN POETRY
Exile

by H.J. Recinos
​

in the heart of the neighborhood
my dear there is a very big park
you can visit and hold close like
a forest believing it just for your
life in exile. I know you heard
these woodlands will not grow
mango, papaya or cashew trees
but you will eventually learn to
walk, play and rest on its foreign
ground. child some day you will
realize the butchery we fled with
God hidden in it, the mourning
that took place at the church where
soldiers arrested the cross, the mouths
full of words that nightly shouted at
the sky and how death used up the
village peasants and priests. sweet
dear, life began for us here like a
good dream though I know you still
think the sun in this country will one
day go down never to rise above your
head, again. child let’s give it more
time, light the daily candles, search
for the Angels that fold up the sadness
flight made and try to call this strange
new land home. for now, take my hand
like prayer and call this life your own.