A Relationship Crumbles While 15th Century Incan Ruins Endure

I wrote this poem when I was in Cuzco this past January, torn between giving an ex- a second chance and moving on.

The Andes do the talking

I can make more words;

words will labor

with all their might

to maintain my image of you, which cracks

so it takes more and more words,

through which the small pieces trickle

like sand through my hourglass.

I am going to let the Andes do the talking.

Se dice que los dioses viven ahí, which sounds

crazy, until you’ve seen them. My God lives there.

He’s thick.

The Andes are healing me.

I want to stay until I am

no longer

corn with butter and salt, but choclo

con queso, until

I believe with all my heart that lunch

should be the biggest meal, until

I don’t need you anymore.

They will talk. They spoke before.

I don’t want you, but

I need you: the least healthy

combination. I no longer listen for your voice

that might never have the grace to speak

and I turn to those Andes quienes tocan

mi corazón y hablan con la gran voz

de silenco

oscuro.

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About Jacquelyn Barnes

Former English Literature and Writing major at Whitworth University. Spanish Language minor. Browne's Addition Resident. Editorial Assistant at Gray Dog Press. Interested in postcolonial, multicultural, and feminist theories. Former ski racer. Longboarder. Runner. Member of Vintage Faith Community Church (we have no building). Painter. Morning person. View all posts by Jacquelyn Barnes

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