Toledo, As Painted By El Greco Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

on a day of tormented skies

suddenly I dreamed of Toledo

Toledo as painted by El Greco.


will music fall out of the sky?

Segovia, cease with the fountains

I think of all the small things


I learned about Spain

in school. the cape lined with rose

that taunts the soul


the beauty of the word "Escorial"

at festivals, then I wanted to weep

to prophesy:


cien mil rosas will arise


and crown everything

but time has lapsed

like the legend of Quixote


across the dread and blinding sands

and no one gives commands that mean anything

and there is a kind of grief


I don't know why the colour of cerise

reversing the preterit

as if Garcia Lorca had died again

and honey and olive mixed provide


no balm.

nor the nascent oranges chilled

in the last storm of all


the one on the way, on the winds

from the sad green towers


mary angela douglas 11 july 2019