A life left behind . . .

Beniai

Ochre in the air veils greens, diffuses sunlight;
rose madder bleaches to terracotta, shadows pale,
a siesta stillness barely breathes.

Unseen drowsers take their dreaming selves
into purple valleys — afternoon’s respite
from stifling life.

Juan’s back continues bent against the sun:
though sleeping, his eyes crease to squint
to where an absent son might re-emerge.

Maria slips away to a time of agile dance,
twisting in the slip-stream blue of air,
held aloft where pain does not bind.