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Semana Santa, Girona — photo by author

Heroes and villains and a maiden fair.

Old, oft told, forever renewed,
How paths did cross,
fortunes lost,
Journeys begun anew.

Foretold, rumored,
written by waves in the sand
Castles abandoned
Promises forsaken,
faces forgotten.

Proclamations bold,
Never to be,
lost as the answers
the wind writes on sea.

The first shiver,
echo of cries far away,
soft as the whisper from leaf to leaf.
The nervous splendor
as the empire, feeling the shift,
tightens its grip.

Aye, wind from a new quarter,

Keen eared, the young, sense it first.
Though those on watch noted it long ago.
Only now, finally, it comes as news,
by those who refused to know.

The sea rises, and none will hold it back.
The long tide is making,
carrying all before it.

Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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