The Silence Of Lorca Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

to the green memory of Federico Garcia-Lorca

the green moon still in eclipse.
a mantle breaks out into roses overnight.
and fades. by dawn.

dawn over Spain.
the lawns with little flowers
little flowers suspire.

no one is there to sing.
no one is there to sing.
to gather the late blooming elegies

to furnish the bridge to the music long ago
to reverse the sudden executions.
the execution of music.

it has washed out is it lost at sea?
who wanted a mall
a stadium where he bled?

where he bled the last
ribbon of moonlight; white white lead.
and who is there left to show in colours of the limonero

what is under our eyes that breaks into flowers-
if not, snow?

or remains behind to gather the laments
in an emerald book
in an emerald book and though we look and strain our hearts to hear

who can contemplate
the silence of Lorca-
without tears.

mary angela douglas 15 october 2014