'For Estela'

Here on this knife-edge 

I have waited for thirty eight years

those first days were darkness

those first dreams were crimson

stains from murderous hands 

I am the madwoman who

asks too many questions

unpicking a tapestry of lies

its holes shedding light on 

the faces of the disappeared 

like stars they illuminate 

the seas the rivers the streets

re-tracing the last days of our kin  

we sisters of Plaza de Mayo 

we circle we gather in prayer   

Now that I've found you 

I step back from the edge

I can sleep easier now  

I know in you she lives on.

Argentinian Grandmother reunites with grandson.

©Bryn Hyfrd.

Poetry Blog :Waveattheworld.blogspot.com)
Bryn writes poetry short stories and plays. Reads monthly at poetry open mic at 'Beyond Words ' Gypsy Hill Tavern ' .