The Hat

[Mora Amaro La Loba]

What was that hat doing there?

How long did that hat sitt
on that chair?
How many years have passed
since its owner last returned?
 
Yet
She continued to leave the hat
on the chair,
waiting... waiting waiting waiting
 
Yet
The truth had burst in
one morning, long ago,
by phone.
 
She wept inside,
not letting a single tear fall,
keeping them all tightly
pressed, in the depths of her eyes,
wishing to hate him
and not drown in the void he left
 
 
Yet
She died too, standing,
like a tree,
without anyone noticing,
and let silence live in the house,
like a being
 
Days followed nights,
nights followed days,
sun and moon taking turns,
 
turning them into time,
dead time, barren field
 
Yet
the hat,
the chair waiting