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Noèlia Díaz Vicedo
4
Far away, beyond the horizon
The Voice of a child calls the moon,
It is your damn heart that calls yourself Love
That spins a web of lies.
I have been víctim and guilty,
And a piece of ephemeral, vulnerable flesh.
But now I will say that this woman
That lives and writes will seize the word
And will put her weaving to one side
And will turn the burden into the song
Of a disposessed mermaid.