I She knew how to seduce her destiny, predict the time of flight In 1939, dressed in garments of night and happiness at the threshold of a fearful Hamburg Harbor resolved to live, she sailed to Southern seas. In 1938, the windows of her house of water and stone resisted the extreme horror of that night of broken crystals. She, my grandmother, taught me to recognize the landscape of danger, the shards of fear, the impenetrable faces of women, fleeing, accused, audacious in their will to live. II Helena Broder, created a domain of papers, fragile vessels, clandestine poems and notes to be made, discreet addresses. With little baggage, like a frail and ancient angel, she arrived, although ready to embark again. I survived next to her and I was thankful for the gift of her presence.
Secrets in the Sand [And the night was a precipice]
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