Some stories we trust?

The conversos‘ dismissal of Isabella

We were never silent.
We shouted, and we cursed you.
We sang in Arabic in the coffee houses.

We would have deafened your old men
in their red tassels, if they had ever come
in to the streets.

When we left you, we followed the storks
to this place of sand and cinnamon
and the fat of the lamb
to remember over cold mint tea
the thousand stories you will never hear.

And in your desert
a thousand years beyond your death
our walls and waterfalls will speak still.


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