ROJO

An irreligious pebble struck
my temple
while another crooked one
asked out my skin.

Some pulled me by
my forelock,
the way God will pull them
on the Day He will judge.

An woodcutter
offered his axe for
my slaughter, while a

Farmer presented his sickle.
Small kids jeering from the crowd
hitting me with very small
stones that hardly harm the skin.
But these smallest ones hurt
the most for I was
keeping hopes with those young lambs.
They were now scaring me
with the prospect of an
ugly tomorrow.

The hotly scorching grains of sand
burning my skin,
destroying my human form,
my last offering to her
in her very favorite color,
red-blood.