and so they fell, the orange blossoms, with the rain that was precipitated by three days of wind, and the streets were wiped clean to be ready for the processions. and so it's upon us, the resurrection, because when the band members and the nazarenes are in the streets in full costume they're no longer practicing. but they've been practicing for months, and for months the city has lived in fear of the coming of the glory. and it will come again, as it does, and the people will have already forgotten the irony of the demonstrators having taken the same processional route on the morning and afternoon of the general strike that the virgins and the cross burdened jesuses will take to the cathedral during holy week. but, probably, the people moved by the chanting of the strikers will not be the same as the people moved by the bands and the nazarenes, and any traces of the fliers that filled the streets the day of the strike that were later missed by the sanitation workers when they went back to work will have been erased by the rain -- or trampled by the nazarenes. mine eyes have seen.
the friday of dolores. "...for those who suffer." and they name their daughters things like angustias, too... there were seven dolores in jesus' story, and now there are thousands in spain. ready or not, here they come.
"...no me ocultes tu pena...cuéntame tu amargura...dime la verdad."
her mother was preoccupied with not having already bought all of the accessories she wanted for her daughter's feria outfit, and i had my sevillanas class to worry about myself, but as the rains were threatening to start i was happy to swap my tutu for the paper crown that two year old lola had gotten at daycare for her saint's day and spend the afternoon at ease.
No comments:
Post a Comment