#poem, «After The Weather» A Poem by Francisco Bravo Cabrera

After the Weather

The sky,

Reflected on glass towers,

has not decided what it is.

Endings are not architecture

built to say goodbye

with my name

carved on the door.
No one sleeps

when tomorrow hums

beneath the floor.

Nothing stays in the mould

It came in.

The body knows this.
Even the old photograph
is becoming a different photograph.

Someone sits

and watches their shadow grow.

But it’s just morning.

The dead do not return,
but light finds the places
where they stood.

It’s not consolation.

The wound
has changed its address.

The empty chair
becoming wood again.

Silence no longer asks
to be filled.

Time takes our names

and buries them

where trees grow,

with outstretched branches,

like hands opening.

It’s only the weather

Passing through.

12 AUG 2026, Francisco Bravo Cabrera – Ilica, Turkey