664
the
chosen, their rapture
general ekphrastic, Córdoba
these
eyes up hungry for light
all
gold in halo after
the
arrow stuck
those
put to the sword
or
fallen on
those
with their heads on plates
or
visited with angels
who
speak with the air
beatific
in milky breasts (don't bite!)
those
burned for witches
whose
hearts glowed true
cherubs,
seraphs
those
great in quill
or
nose in tome
flagellants
the
great ones with a church in hand
or
better, a cathedral
those
hailing each own revelation
those
lifted as in flight
the
one who's nailed up upside down
these
now the skeletal remains
or
even just a toenail left
these
well lit
the
priestly
and
the ones at war
the
swooners
all
well wept
who
dreamt
the big dream
whom
animals, as children, adore
the
lamb
the
fish
the
dove
ones
falling
and
ones risen as up in a thermal
the heaven sent or lent
the
one baptising with the linen hat
the
one to take the plunge
the
grey beard papa looking on
the
cloud-through peering angels
fog
so
many with their faces half gone
all
cracked with time
the
bowed
the
unbreasted
horse
drawn
and
rocket launched
hands
prayer clenched
silent
ones so much seen
so certain
who
were forgiven
because
they asked
so
proud of their humility
what
can this world be to them?
this
moment is their glory
Goya? No, not Goya. It isn't grim (or real) enough.
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteI lived in Andalucia
for many years
during my childhood
the light was different
and the future did not exist
now I just remember the light
and the smell of the air
all that's gone
it's actually a Cordovan -- Juan de Penalosa y Sandoval ... not one of the greats I suspect (but what would I know)
ReplyDelete