Poetry Prayer #19

I tend to read poetry in the British accent I paid so much to perfect. This one doesn't work that way.

Secrets in the Sand [And the night was a precipice]
by Marjorie Agosin

by Marjorie Agosín
And the night was a precipice,
And the night was a hollow sound,
Beyond all depths and silences.
It was night in the city of Juárez and the dead women of Juárez
Protected the living ones.
It didn’t seem like a typical night at the border.
It seemed more like the drowsiness of a mute inferno
And flames transforming into knives.
Night in Juárez was a perverse mirror
Where death breathed its hollow
Trophies over the sand.
And night in the city of Juárez didn’t have a beginning or an end
Just fear
Just death.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19113#sthash.SuhDTKDn.dpuf

And the night was a precipice,
And the night was a hollow sound,
Beyond all depths and silences.
It was night in the city of Juárez and the dead women of Juárez
Protected the living ones.
It didn’t seem like a typical night at the border.
It seemed more like the drowsiness of a mute inferno
And flames transforming into knives.

Night in Juárez was a perverse mirror
Where death breathed its hollow
Trophies over the sand.

And night in the city of Juárez didn’t have a beginning or an end
Just fear
Just death.

by Marjorie Agosín
And the night was a precipice,
And the night was a hollow sound,
Beyond all depths and silences.
It was night in the city of Juárez and the dead women of Juárez
Protected the living ones.
It didn’t seem like a typical night at the border.
It seemed more like the drowsiness of a mute inferno
And flames transforming into knives.
Night in Juárez was a perverse mirror
Where death breathed its hollow
Trophies over the sand.
And night in the city of Juárez didn’t have a beginning or an end
Just fear
Just death.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19113#sthash.SuhDTKDn.dpuf

by Marjorie Agosín
And the night was a precipice,
And the night was a hollow sound,
Beyond all depths and silences.
It was night in the city of Juárez and the dead women of Juárez
Protected the living ones.
It didn’t seem like a typical night at the border.
It seemed more like the drowsiness of a mute inferno
And flames transforming into knives.
Night in Juárez was a perverse mirror
Where death breathed its hollow
Trophies over the sand.
And night in the city of Juárez didn’t have a beginning or an end
Just fear
Just death.
- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19113#sthash.SuhDTKDn.dpuf