izaro — a hand lifting a cup. izaro — the cup set down empty. Together, the shape of a lifetime.
In the dust of a forgotten dialect, izaro might have meant to turn , or to braid river-reeds at dawn . But doubled — izaro izar — it becomes a wheel, a prayer wheel, a child skipping rope in a courtyard where no one has lived for thirty years. izaro izar
At midnight, the village dogs answer it. Not barking — humming. Their throats make the same two syllables, rocking the moon in its hammock of cloud. izaro — a hand lifting a cup
Listen: Not a word. A small machine for making echoes. Say it once, you are a traveler. Say it twice, you are the road. izaro might have meant to turn