Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal- Two Poems

DUST TO MAN

From dust he

became man
to find a
new dawn, a
rebirth, that

would launch him
like ash to


the strange sky.
He would sleep
in the morning
and burn.

MUTE CITY

I often wonder

how it would feel
to live in mute city,
where every word
falls on deaf ears
and lip reading is
a way of art.

They only voice
in mute city is
the wind and its
sound is foreign

to the human ear.
Only flowers and
birds understand it.

In mute city one
could get lost in

their own thoughts.

One could pretend

to understand
what the wind says.