I grew after your deathMy nails turned blackMy hair, a skein of dry moonOrphaned among the orphansSolitude and I moving amongThe abyss.
After your deathI chose unutterable thingsA lost caressThe kiss on my foreheadYou gave meWhen we were searching for God.
After your death I lostMy trust in biblesIn the gospelsI also rejected intermittentPassions. [End Page 85]
Me quedé así quieta, apoyándomeEn el lado claro del corazónMe acomodé a las huellas del silencioY como niña perdidaRepetía tu nombre.
Después de tu muerte me hiceAún más pequeñitaY quise encontrarteEntre las grietas de la tierraQue con mis manos enloquecidasDesenterraba.
Después de tu muerteAmé lo inefableTu beso de las buenas nochesTu voz tan sabia y tibia.
Te pido que me tiendas la manoEsta nochePorque tan sólo quiero poseer tu memoriaEl color de tus manosTus pasos sobre un bosque nevado. [End Page 86]
I remained still, restingOn the clear side of the heartI adjusted to the traces of silenceAnd like a lost childI repeated your name.
After your deathI became even smallerAnd wanted to find youIn the crevices of the earthThat I dug up with myCrazed hands.
After your deathI loved the unattainableYour goodnight kissYour wise and warm voice.
I ask you to give me your handTonightBecause I only want to hold to your memoryThe color of your handsYour steps in a snowy forest. [End Page 87]
Marjorie Agosín grew up in Santiago Chile hearing the stories of her family who escaped the Holocaust as well as the pogroms. Agosín has documented her family's lives in two memoirs A Cross and a Star and Always from Somewhere Else. She is the author of Among the Angels of Memory, a collection of poetry dedicated to her great grandmother. The author of nearly twenty books as well as the recipient of important literary and Human Rights awards, Agosín is a professor of Spanish at Wellelsey College where she teaches courses on the literature of Latin American Jewish women and on human rights.