Читать книгу Stony the Road - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 4

you departed for a city

in another country to a

place you heard of once

beneath the low hanging

branches of a tree. you are

in the caravan of brown faces,

among the mothers with infants,

the youth undoing shackles, the

broken elders hardly able to walk

and the disabled children never

mentioned in American news who

get pushed across the Spanish speaking

borders in old wheelchairs. in the

evening around holes with dancing

flames, the strangers with whom you

walk discuss the hounds barking at the

border, the soldiers in confused wait, the

High-priests so expert at looking the other

way and the English only people who never

imagine the dreams of Christ. we shall

wait in the darkness you left behind hoping

to touch your hand someday, we will pray

in the old village church to the obscure

heaven that one day will make a way for

us, and the candles in front of the blessed

Mother will be kept burning until we are

certain you have crossed the river, safe.

on that day we promise to tell your story

like a sweet biblical tale.