soft grumbles

I wrote this piece in 2000 when I was just beginning to write poetry. It's inspired by Edwin Markham's "Man with a Hoe" which in turn was inspired by a Millet painting. This poem was edited mostly by Bob Wands. It was part of the Writersvillage
exhibit for our first poetry month exhibit. hope you like it.

The Baptism

Waiting for the ceremony to begin
my future godchild on his mother's lap
I sit silently, entrapped
among the pews at center aisle
in front, a bruised and battered Christ
dies, passive on the cross

I can see His face
a crux of faith bestowed upon my clan
a gift from Spain's conquistadores led by a Portugese
I have memorized the sight
crowned with brambles, broken nose and jaws
religion of the white man we embraced
plagued us with guilt, restrained our ways,
forked our tongues, made us forget our names.

Around n,
stained glass windows, stylized cubic images
stuccoed walls
festooned with marble icons, floral delights
people flashing diamond earrings,
bracelets of gold, paisley brooches
Rolex watches, Gucci bags.

In my mind, a man stands stooped
thick fingers curled on a hoe
stymied by circumstance, stoic gaze
thralled to til for tithe.

The day will come
when he replaces hoe with sickle
not to reap his crops but bathe he land
with rich men's blood
this man will wake a giant,
not from remnants of an intellect
that never died, but of the strong
and this land where my forebears lie
coffin of my father's corpse
where nothing rests but skull and bones
shall perish.

Two images converge
one born among the manger's beasts
to die between two thieves,
the other, a man in squalor, fists clenched
feet soiled, torso wet with
sweat and blood.

Bell sounds wake me from my musings
people rise in salutation, light
from the gilded window
burnishes a rail adorned
with golden leaves
yes, this is a rich man's church and
these people did not come to worship.

The priest in stately white
long stola wrapped around his neck
pours water in a welcoming to faith
my godchild cries.

rolly delos santos
2000