• 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.