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Rob Mccabe Poem
A Love Poem for Federico Garcia Lorca
Last night, I dreamed of you,
my raven-haired gitano.
Dreamt of your succulent mouth,
Rich and full,
like the black grapes from the vineyards,
near the unmarked place where you lie.
“Te amo mi amor” you tenderly whisper in my ear.
Your kisses, sweeter than the wine of the valley,
Which I drank ages ago.
I could melt in your arms,
drift down to where you lie—
with your white bones,
buried beneath the thick, rich earth,
stained with your blood.
“Tu eres mi carino,” I whisper.
Federico, you have been dead for so long—
Your voice silenced by Franco’s fascist bullets.
And today, in my country,
Freedom is on tenuous ground.
Will bullets silence my voice too?
I don’t know the answer
to this question.
So, all I can do is write
live my life, think of you, and say,
“El gente unidas, jamas estan vincidas.”
Copyright © Rob Mccabe | Year Posted 2017
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