for Marjorie Agosin

Those voices that persisted,
invaded your dreams,
insisted on their stories.

The mothers of the Plaza de Mayo
who speak to their disappeared
children each day, hold
faded photographs, dancing alone.

The young women of Juarez
—who is robbing them of their dreams?
A desert full of secrets, steeped in blood,
remains scattered in parched sand.

Men in dark clothing and masks
abduct people off the streets.
Detained by agents of the state,
taken to an undisclosed location.
Chile ’73, Argentina ’76 – 83,
Turkey, Hungary, China,
the United States 2025.

Bound, blindfolded, gagged
a thin shadow hurled from
a plane, into the sea.

How do I define
the presence of absence?
This last journey you danced
alone dreaming of the sea.