Conquistador by Mario de Rivera

On viewing a painting by Mario de Rivera

In the land of saints and horses,
the bearers of halos and hooves are victors.

What the sky gives, the sea takes,
be it stone, bladelike leaves,
a cracked egg, the body tattooed,
a lady turning back, folding her garment,
burdened with remorse.

In the land of churches and crucifixes,
bounded hands reach out for the ocean’s surface.
The sting of salt fills up the lungs,
the sway of loosened grass,
beyond their grasp.

Examine the nautilus, careful ear of heaven.
Trace with your brush the gentle curve,
the swirl towards the navel.

Remember to knock
when you reach the gates,
to speak when no one listens.
When the air hangs heavy,
breathe deep.

Never look back.

The sea keeps what it takes,
without falter, without regret.

© Joel H. Vega