This time she's in Paute.
In case you missed them, you can do a search on this blog for more of her writings and her bio.
On hardwood pews, slit slatted
My sacrum suffered
While listening to Offenbach’s
Orpheus in the Underworld
A camera recorded it all
From the altar where Jesus hung
from the cross, insufferably
stretched to eternity.
Near his feet a bright white light
Lit across musicians’ heads
Curved over instruments
In their desperate attempts
To bring a loved one back to the world of the living
In the Iglesia Matriz de la Vicaria San Jose de Paute
I watched a young boy child
Pretending to play his baton
In time to the earthly descent
He dipped his baton down to the ground
genuflecting towards the music
Until his father stopped him with a touch
Of his well worn hand
The child blanched into silence
away from the primordial sound in his head
As if shamed.
A handsome dark haired young cantor boomed
Mi Pueblito Mio, Pasacalle
In bajo barritone around the Iglesia,
like a swarm of bees in a beehive
stirring up lost souls
Diego Javier Zomora Mendieta
grasped for air with delicate hands
while we sang the chorus,
our voices spilling into the Paute plaza
And the soft evening air.
My sacroiliac stung from the slit slats
Of the hardwood pews
I knew I would pay for this.
Here are more snapshots of Paute and the surrounding valley.
Amazing clouds over the surrounding mountains.
Paute is about 1000 ft lower than Cuenca, so warmer temps.
Bottlebrush trees grow really well here.
We have more pics of Paute valley area...we'll share later.