E, could you join these five men starved to the muscle yet bulging with revolution? All lean, bend, and contort into and around each other. Arms,backs,shoulders,and necks indistinguishable from the wall they hold firm. No time to empty the bandoleers strapped across the back. No time to poise the knife or unravel the thick rope around bare feet. No time to dry the sweat flowing from red-brown flesh taut over shirtless, strained torsos. No time for anything else. E, something on the other side of the barricade is trying to get through. What is it you fear? Flaming torch, cannon ball, shovel plunged through wood and plaster, flesh and bone? No, you're too brave for that. E, something on the other side of the barricade is trying to get through. In another time you might have joined these peasants' locked knees and pressed backs. Had you lived you could have told your tales of how the hand was sliced clean off. Why the eye looks askew. Why the leg was buried before you. Why many mothers gave their sons to you to slaughter with a knife or save with an emptying canteen. E, something on the other side of the barricade is trying to get through. You fear it; I know. Your red brown eyes staring away from me see more than you'll tell. E, join these five men and forget sleep. Something on the other side of the barricade is trying to get through. Hold it back, E. E, hold it back with these five sun strengthened men. They stain too hard to find a time to die. --Thomas N., 62 |
0
T to E After Seeing Orozco's Barricade
