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