Читать книгу Stony the Road - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 27

in the wrinkled black and white

photo she holds the Holy Book

with sweat streaming down her

earth colored brow. with dark

eyes in a slender migrant farmer

frame she hopes to break free. I

expect you know the fields that

consume her, the misty bleeding

landscape, the fretting hours spent

with others bent, the riches made

from her wounds, and the Spanish

tears she fetches from her most

intimate well. keep her divine

image in front of you, let the part

of you that is dead, stand beside

her with news that we are entirely

set free, rip out God’s pages from

the book, request with fire in your

words the Holy keys, use them to

make the callous world tremble and

kiss for her sake the wicked dark

good-bye.