i think i felt the catalanian heart beat

i’ m not sure if there’s a poem,
one that stays with me
and does this city justice–

someone said Miró
helped us understand,
this world is made of instability & beauty,
things that last, only for so long and–

who can tell what comes
next, standing

in the nave of the cathedral where
Antoni Gaudí poured
forty three years of his life
to make these stone walls talk,
then died in the streets of Barcelona,
in an accident, knocked over
by a tram, clothed in rags,
they didn’t recognize him &

i weep for all the dreams
that might never come true,

a woman on the bus is blind,
eyes closed behind dark glasses,
fingers trace the buttons on the pole,

i feel her concentration, gently
focused on the next stop, next step,
period– there’s dignity

in every move of
an old trashman as he empties
bins by hand &

i sit on the stone steps on
Placa de Josep Oriol,
a homeless, bent, felted beard,
asks people in the street cafés for coins,

a handsome guy with long braids
swings a rope between two sticks,
conjures soapy bubbles
& in seconds–

plop
——-plop

————–plop

they’re gone–

leaving nothing but
glistening rainbow droplets
in the blond curls
of a little catalanian girl

.

a bit of a capture of my time here in Barcelona, will fly back tonight and visit back as soon as possible… linking up with dVerse where OpenLinkNight goes up at 3pm EST

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