Poem: “Orange Blossom Tears” 2015
Remember when our dreams were like golden apples?
We were in our own garden then
As sunlight poured down from the heavens
And the sweetest water from the fount of Atlas gave buoyancy to our wishes.
There was a seven headed hydra
With a flaming sword and a beast with a thousand eyes
At the foot of the mountain,
Guarding our desires from the crush of the crowds,
And we were strong and illuminate,
Spinning myths from our heart songs
Safe from the wilderness that is the world.
“To the fairest” was our downfall,
The apple of discord our sweetest fruit,
And the walls of the temple trembled and cracked,
Dust cloaking the babble of our sad lost tongues.
It is then we woke up
In a world of lost dreams, mi paloma,
Mi amor,
Weeping orange blossom tears on the terraces
Of Alhambra.
