When I was but thirteen or so
I went into a golden land,
Chimborazo, Cotopaxi
Took me by the hand.
“It will be out secret”, said the priest. “I want you to promise not to tell anybody, not even your mother. Nobody must know?”
Antonio sat silently, on the edge of the bed looking down at his feet, brushing away a tear from his eye.
The priest placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“Promise me?”
“I promise, Father”, said the boy.
“There’s a good lad. Here, let me dry your tears away. You don’t want anybody to see you have been crying.” He reached for a handkerchief and wiped Antonio’s eyes.
“Go back to your own bed now and get some sleep. You will fee better in the morning.”
“I am not crying because of the pain,” said the boy.
“I know. Continue reading “Popocatapetl in the sunlight gleams”
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