In the Secret City

For journalist-poet Schultz Laurent Junior

I open my window

to speak with you,

it's a shame in the rush,

the storm, big rolling stones,

up to the children's doll games.

You start to burn

all the city birds.

Your writing, comrade,

is a door that opens to innocence.

You hold the Philadelphia butterfly in your tail

so that the words lead you

closer to the path of humanity.