THANK GOD THERE IS AN IRELAND

Thank God there is an Ireland
to hold our hopes and dreams,
to fill the world with magic,
'til it's bursting at the seams,
to hold the world's beauty,
for all our sons and daughters,
to safeguard every hill,
the land, the air, the waters.

Thank God that hearts so true
have risen to the test,
and kept this magic place,
to give the spirit rest.

And though I do not live there,
a dream that will never be,
thank God there is an Ireland,
and Ireland lives in me.

1 March 2017

SEMPITERNA

I am the life of the earth,
and its green trees,
the air, the water,
the earth itself and its fire.
The sun, the moon, the
wind, the rain and the tides
are mine, and I belong
to them.
Ask not my name,
for it is all names,
nor my language,
for it is all languages.
My roots are in
the jungles of Africa,
and on the arid plain.
I invented all the gods,
to help me tell
my story.
All songs and all instruments
are mine,
all dances and all poems.
It is my visions
that bring the future,
and my memories
that make the past.
I am all women and all men,
the children and the old,
the pleasure of love
and the pain of separation.
Among the clothed,
I am the naked,
among the false,
I am the real,
I am the feast that
does not end or fill.
I am a river through time
that knows no time,
a truth that knows no lie.
I am Life,
and cannot die.

1 March 2017

A JUAN IGNACIO - II

The world was smaller
and lonelier
when I got up.
Preoccupied, I poured
hot water
into an empty ma-te cup.

Cuando me levanté
el mundo era más chico
y soledoso.
Distraido, derramé
agua caliente
en un mate vacío.

28 feb. 2017

A JUAN IGNACIO

A la memoria de Juan Ignacio Magnabosco 1961 - 2017

No sé si ustedes están enterados
I don't know if you are aware
de lo que le pasó a Juan
of what happened to Juan
tuvo un accidente con el tractor
he had an accident with the tractor
y falleció
and died
falleció
falleció
I am stunned by that word
that takes away a friend
and a life.
Standing naked under the stars,
I wonder how Juan could be dead.
To the south is the Southern Cross
and the Great Cloud of Magellan.
To the north,
Orion stands
on his head.

27 Feb. 2017

This week I'm seeing Vietnam in the list of the top ten countries visiting the poetry blog. Argentina's in there too, but Chile is not. It seems that I get one or the other, but not both, The same is true of Spain and Portugal. Maybe in each case I have just one fan, who is constantly crossing the border like a bagashero. [How many of you know that word? It's Portunhol for "contrabandista."]

It is nice when I can be faithful to who I was. It is imperative that I be true to who I am.

--DCT 24 Feb. 2017

In our possessed state, Beauty speaks through us. She has Her own wisdom, which we are powerless to match or refute. She is the source of Life and Death. Though we may retransmit sparks of Her overwhelming light, we are basically along for the ride. We are the wood burning in Her sacred dhuni, Her fire-pit, which is also our funeral pyre.

D. Carlos Traxler
One year ago: 24 Feb. 2016