I am getting back into the creative writing thing, something I enjoyed a lot as a child and teenager.
I put it aside for journalism. These days, I return to my first writing love, and one morning I wrote this text.
It is a poem of thoughts and images that came up when I was watching the news and remembered interviews I made.
Our weeping skies and calloused earths we leave behind
Our midnight serenades and drunkard beatings
Our first breaths, first steps, first melodies of words
First funerals of marigolds, bread, candles and tequila
First mango kisses
Behind we leave them in the mud of heavens and hells