Alone, I Arrive in a Looted City
Alone, I arrive in a looted cityand walk slowly, my arms hangingloosely, I look through open doors,what remains is scattered in the streets,the air is clean because no one is breathingit, this city, this silence, this city,I have on my face the oppositeof a child's tears, that timehas gone, I feel a solemn serenityand erosion because this is our city,and because I don't know whetherI will find you when I get home, Mom.
English Translation Copyright © 2020 by Hugo Dos Santos
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
Finding the extraordinary in the common has long been the mission of literature. Inspired by this mission and the role of the town common, a public gathering place for the display and exchange of ideas, The Common seeks to recapture an old idea. The Common publishes fiction, essays, poetry, documentary vignettes, and images that embody particular times and places both real and imagined; from deserts to teeming ports; from Winnipeg to Beijing; from Earth to the Moon: literature and art powerful enough to reach from there to here. In short, we seek a modern sense of place.
In our hectic and sometimes alienating world, themes of place provoke us to reflect on our situations and both comfort and fascinate us. Sense of place is not provincial nor old fashioned. It is a characteristic of great literature from all ages around the world. It is, simply, the feeling of being transported, of “being there.” The Common fosters regional creative spirit while stitching together a national and international community through publishing literature and art from around the world, bringing readers into a common space.