• POETRY •
Onto Segovia
“Marine twilight,
in the middle
of my life,
the waves like clustered grapes,
the solitude of the sky…”
– Neruda, from “Ode to Hope”
Will it be the Retiro today?
Will we meet under the greenery,
where a thousand
years have marched by foot and brick,
that I will follow
against the backdrop
of wild and pulsing traffic?
Yesterday it was Segovia,
like an old friend,
the Candido
where we could see the stilts
of water
rise up as necks and shoulders
to support such sustenance.
It was the cobbled walks
of Segovia we followed for hope,
the scratched stars
plastered across the facades
of your buildings
that we sense the ghosts of St. Theresa,
she in her barefeet
gliding ecstatic from corner to corner.