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In the land of colours

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Between the palms and cactus figs

a man is opening his cafe.

The boxer on his morning jog

crossing footprints of night refugees

as he is closing in on

Africa on the horizon.

 

The azure sky

The navy sea

Children picking pretty stones

on the shores below the mountains.

Emerald pines form small forests

along the narrow road

disappearing in the heat

like a black snake.

leading to the birthplace of the matador,

a headquarter of inquisition,

where I saw her on the wall,

in the small church

with the old lady at the door.

A red triangle holding her child,

a golden triangle

both inside a ring of fire.

 

As the night arrives

I see them both coming to life in the dark church.

The mother holding the child in front of her

like she wants to say:

Look at my precious child.

If you want to share a secret

I am giving it away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alan

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