Garcia Lorca, born today, today I love you, like everyday but today I weep for this love and its end on a moonless night.
a short vignette of sorts...
Garcia Lorca, my Federico - a poet born to violent end
we sing you, decorate your memory with flowers
we sing you and your thousand gypsy songs
we sing you, we sing you a myriad of songs and stars
caught in the heavens looking down
on a completely different subject depending on ones point of view
AIDS is first reported in 1981 and today is that anniversary (30th) - today I love but not love AIDS - today I weep, profoundly - I think of artists, musicians, dancers, lovers and free men and woman all dying or dead of a disease whose name was never spoken by the elected leader of the time - such ignorance and more research put into the common cold than in research for what was killing and would kill - a fantastically dreaded disease which eats not only at the body but at the mind, soul and spirit.
I was born before AIDS but in large it has defined parts of my life, touched others and, if I can say it, graced the rest.
and Micael, Micael... O, now forever on this day shall I think of you, dance to your being -
I had a friend die of AIDS, we called him Bird dog. He would've loved Facebook and the the digital socializing we all do now.
ReplyDeleteHe participated in a stem cell bone marrow transplant that wasn't successful. I read recently someone participated in the same research that was successful and are now "cured". I like to think Bird Dog's experience helped that outcome.
Federico Garcia Lorca, one of the greatest treasures of the Spanish language and undoubtedly the greatest poet-playwright to have been murdered by the Franco regime. This is thoughtful, lovely (but sadness-tinged) work.
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