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At Las Cruces: An Elegy for Jesus and Maria A pause. In the field day sheds its light, consumes the dreams of father and son. This is where He speaks. In the burning country of a thousand tongues. I prophesy, see visions -- How is this possible? I beseeched, yet You did not listen. I fasted, yet You did not answer. I surrendered, yet You admonished. He is dead ... It is not possible. (Where is the truth that You should abandon me?) He died in a chicken coop, his dreams fettered by black soil. He was an alien in a strange nation: the tiller of the Wild Land. Father Iím enraged. I come against You with hoe and sickle. If only You had read his calloused palms -- (He was a pool of light in an earthen vase.) How can this be -- he lies silent in a forgotten field where rows run forever and vanish into a diminished moon.
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