For A.E. Ribera
Chevremont
Island ofPuerto
Rico,
Island of
palms,
light body,
light,
like a saint,
lightly resting
over the water,
a thousand
palm trees,
like the tallest—
from two thousand
hills beckoning....
Island, sunrise
of my joy,
without a
body’s affliction,
a tremulous
soul,
nursed by
constellations
in the siesta
of fire,
perforated
by dialects,
and maiden-like
again in the innocent dawn.
Passionate
island
of sugarcane
and coffee:
a world sweet
on the lips
like childhood,
blessed with
song
like a Hosanna!
Songless siren
over the sea,
offended by
the sea
in the surf:
Cordelia of
the waves,
bitter Cordelia.
Save yourself
like the white
roe deer,
and like the
new llama
of Pachacamac,
and like the
golden egg
of the brood,
and like Ifigenia
alive in the
flames?
May the archangels
of our race
save you:
Michael, the
avenger;
Raphael, the
foot soldier;
and Gabriel,
our conductor
to the last
hour.
Before my
feet
and vision
tail me,
before my
skin becomes a fable,
before my
knees fly in the wind...
Cordelia – King
Lear’s honest daughter
Pachacamac –
supreme Quechua god
- home - picture gallery - writings - join-us - links -
Page last
edited February 14, 2000
by: PhoneBoy