Artwork by Menchu Gamero
LORCA’S LOVE
On roads
from first light
under the foliage
of hapless rose-bushes
flooded by the river
a cortege
of the wounded
giving birth,
you wrote your ballads
once a moving song
on the death and lament
of a bullfighter
set to music by Brecht,
Dessau, de Falla
and Ohana,
your own passing story
unknown to us
unreported in rites
or news cycles,
the jazz dreams
of the night
you whose language
knotted in oracles
of a great longing
for peace
to brother to brother
sister to sister
intimate as the sun
consumed
by generations
of a burial of justice,
and you, Lorca,
lover of the unknown,
your plays
even suspended
in your home country
on the last stage
of fascism
your laments and dirges
once applauded
we still mourn for you,
now in a mirage of red
still rest, Lorca
your truths unreported
in a duende and song
yet known by your loves
to still befriend us.