Untitled Poem # 23

far too young for the joke they trudge and skip

shoulder and veer, stumble and stride

determined and careless, young and older than

past the three-card monte and the snow domes

of Familia Segrada

the stones recall the clamouring hordes

with standards aloft snaking along, alleluias trailing

to a martial beat that quickens the blood

and makes the old men shudder

stirring a history forgotten they sing to the heathens

race memories of earlier crusades in their hearts