MOTHER’S DAY, MEXICO CITY
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The air is clear and cool |
inside the church of San Felipe Neri |
as a small cluster of reverent women |
kneel at the altar rail chanting to the Virgin |
in hushed voices, their supplications |
echoing through the vaulted nave, |
the smell of disinfectant and old wood |
perfuming the darkness, while outside |
in the hazy sunlight twenty-two million souls |
struggle to survive in the noxious air, |
the congestion of cars and buses |
belching fumes into the atmosphere, |
and life on Calle Madero continues pulsing |
to a boom box beat where juggling clowns |
work the sidewalk for centavos and a man |
waits at the light wearing a surgical mask, |
while inside the church, plaster saints |
in gold altar niches look down beatifically |
on the chanting women who glorify the Mother |
of all mothers, and the tranquil interior |
and sweet soprano voices make me forget |
for a moment that turbulence reigns |
just outside those heavy wooden doors. |
Thea Evensen 2024 |
Published or Updated on: October 17, 2024