"The Mother Grotto" (Huagapo Grotto – The largest in South America) In Spanish and English
((Huagapo Grotto – Peru)
The Mother Grotto
Huge stone walls left beautifully from a bygone era.
Images appear over the narrow river, images with a thousand
darkness.
Sounds of twirling and rushing water, a million gallons
Sweep across this endless floor of dirt and rock.
One can feel a new restlessness, deep in the wells of this cave.
Granite images flutter overhead, death
the shadows come, hanging
like long knots of wild energy,
they writhe in triumph.
Now comes the time to look into the dark tunnels,
the long past floods my brain;
I jump down into your nostril,
now, now I climb with a rope on the other side
to the mouth of the dead,
Look into this dying hollow, my guide takes my hand,
(to keep the balance) there is little time to talk,
my wife and two other companions wait on the other side of the empty well,
I am, now… inside his mouth, thinking:
‘…Why did God create this?’
Here the seasons never change, the stone pillars,
take shape like trees,
and the domes on top, drip ice water, like
leaky teeth…
Down in the pools of water, the heads of the fish splash,
then they jump deeper, their tails swirl and hide
in the shallow reeds, foliage and rocks….
Old man I say: ‘Seize the moment!’
No: 2045 11-8-07 ((Written in part 3 hours (5:00 PM, by car) after visiting the largest cave in South America, Huagapo (Tarma, Peru); the rest of this poem was written when I arrived to my apartment, around 7:00 pm, in Huancayo, Peru, the grotto was about 61 miles away.))
((Huagapo Grotto (Peru))
The Mother Grotto
Huge stone walls perfectly handed down from a bygone age.
Images appear sober the thin river, images with a thousand.
dark..
Rolling, sounds of rushing water, a million gallons.
bar across this endless floor of dirt and rocks..
You can feel a new worried, deep in the holes of this cave..
Images of granite wave overhead, shadows.
of death are coming, hung.
as long as the power is unbridled.
they writhe in triumph..
Now comes the time to examine the dark tunnels.
the long past, this attacks my brain;.
I jump down into your nostrils.
now, now I climb up with a rope to the other side.
in the mouth of the dead.
I look into this dying hole, my guide holds my hand,.
(to keep my balance) there is little time to talk,.
my wife and two other colleagues wait on the other side of the empty space.
I am, now… inside his mouth, thinking:.
“…why did God create this?”
Here the seasons will never change, the stone pillars,.
in the form of trees.
and from the domes above, they drip ice cold water, like.
dripping teeth…
Down in the pools of water, fish heads splash,.
then they jump deeper, their tails swirling, and they hide.
in shallow water, in foliage, and rocks….
Old man, I say: “Seize the memory!”
# 2045 (8-November-2007 (Written in part–3 hours-5:00 in the afternoon, by car) after visiting the largest crane in South America, Huagapo (Tarma, Peru); the rest of this poem was Written when I got home around 7:00 PM in Huancayo, Peru, the tow truck is about 60 miles away.))
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