Testimonies

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A year wanes, the day winds down and the moon is full.

On nights like this, I remember our old 2nd floor apartment on Río Lerma; the only thing I really miss is the view of the volcanoes, and the sunsets… Sometimes I would call the kids to enjoy the beauty and they’d say “Aw, just another sunset” or something like that.

Now it is my husband who mumbles and goes back to sleep when I suggest “Join me to go see the sun set.” Undaunted, I set out in the brisk winter air, walking west till I can see glimpses of Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl, but hardly both at the same time. They are loaded with snow! (for the first time in months) But the sky seems rather overcast, with little promise of any colorful display. No sign of the sun. As I ponder whether it’s time to turn back, suddenly a deep pink glow is cast on the snowy cone of Popo, and rosy patches appear in the sky. I walk back to a spot where I can see better (albeit with telephone wires and such in the way), turn and watch the show. A woman on a park bench near me is facing the opposite way, missing it all, perhaps wondering why I’m frozen to the sidewalk. It is all over so quickly.

Heading homeward, I see the moon coming up in the east, like part of a surreal painting, with fuzzy edges behind the clouds. (Not nearly as beautiful, Christmas lights twinkle from a nearby house).

The moon and the volcanoes, so recurring in my poems and prose, are once more magical symbols, moving my spirit in awe at Creation.

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