duende
one way to see it
because there are so many
ways to see it, is that we are
all sitting in a cave in Andalucía
singing hymns to god and drinking
the wine of life out of one shared bota
while the castanets strike the rhythm and
some holy high shaman of good living pounds
his feet with his hands raised high, clapping, while
i just sit there and smile, my smile so wide and
irrepressible it even surprises me, the audacity
with which some live, the unabashed gusto,
the joie de vivre as if all of life was one
great journey from tapas bar to tapas
bar, to a friend's home which was
once a cave, perched high up
on the cliff, overlooking the
lights of the city, twinkling
and sparkling, like so
many stars
an entire constellation
of existence, hidden from me,
forgotten by me, by layers of practicality
no starkly removed as if to remind me
we have been born into a mystery
and it is an incredible gift to
dance and sing and
celebrate this
life we have
been given
semana santa
they have their holy week
and their parades but i wonder
if they have experienced this
to even know
duende

