The Torcal

Silence fell long ago
from the skies onto the Torcal,
when sunlight ripped the curtains of clouds,
suddenly, to expose the gateways
where stars once floated,
now jagged rocks as far as the eye
can make out, cocking their fingers
to remind of the fate that befalls,
all quiet in the amphitheatre,
all waiting, where the wind
plays the rock rose carelessly
while the trees orchestrate
silence in ambush. Watch thistles
and peonies there in the gullies
competing. Look up where the lonely
eagle might fly to arbitrate.
Always hold your breath when
embracing the stone that once
had been star and remember:
this may be the only time
you dare feel alive.