The Name of God The light dances in the garden, a perfect stillness, the greenest green, a silent breeze and in the leaves - it has no name. But I used to call it God. Every night I’d kiss the stars and pray they would keep me safe. I found no truth; I found no safety. My pockets stuffed with receipts and wrappers, half-eaten biscuits and stones. A mother now, and yet a stranger. I learn nothing. I find myself in different rooms, but I don’t know how I got here. The words elude me, the sacred secrets, the revelations, the clear laughter, the child I was, I chase their shadows, my hands are empty. Still, I look outside, I see the light, I hear a whisper.
Irene Cantizano Bescós is a writer and immigrant from Spain lost between two languages. Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in Black Hare Press, Moria, Five Minutes, (mac)ro(mic), and Tales to Terrify, among others. She is also a freelance journalist, and her reporting has appeared in leading Spanish and UK titles such as Huffington Post, El País, Telva, and Positive News. Irene lives in England with her husband, two toddlers, and two warring cats. You can find her on Twitter as @IreneCantizano.
Amethyst Review 