Roberto Clemente (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Standing in the sanctuary,
holding up the line
of those who sought to leave,
José and I spoke
of baseball present and baseball past,
and our conversation’s magic conjured you.
From the sea you rose,
to stride proudly across the beach,
pass through the mists
of memory and time and
take your place
on the green right field grass
of the stadium near
where two rivers end and one begins.
For a moment,
a fleeting moment,
an endless moment:
your good strong arm and lightning bat,
your graceful lope and glove of gold,
your passion for the game,
your commitment to humanity
back where they belong.
And a smile crosses my face.
And a tear fills my eye
And all is pain.
And all is well.
And all is well.
Arriba!
15 April 2012
Brooklyn and Manhattan
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