"Migro-me de mim"/ I migrate from myself

I migrate from myself

I migrate from myself
Recreating me from the pains
Tattooed on my back
In the wee hours of the morning.
I'm going to where I can do less than look
And, from this exile, I exorcise myself,
In mourning, white and purple, without farewell.
Someone spells out the letters of my name
So bright and clean
They rise from the throne of the dead.
I spell myself a goddess, a girl,
And a moonlit old woman,
While I know very well that I finally beat sadness to a pulp.
I'm getting used to the sweet body that yields to sleep,
And I am new, disobedient alphabet letters,
creating waves of dreams,
Palms woven with coconut threads.
And my being, simply naked, in your mouth,
improvising life inside what will be
the abundant sun and sea waters.
Migrated from this asylum,
my parents’ sins have already died down,
Blind from the wind and peace.