Mar 11
1 min read
POETRY
El Chimayo
Into the West Sonnet Series
Next to the sanctuary is a room.
Someone found something amazing there, once,
or more than once, judging by the volume
of abandoned crutches hung on pegs. Jumps
of joy must have leapt into the healed legs
as they took up their mats and walked. The wall
opposite is lined with faces. They beg
your eyes to see them. What hope can recall
will endure. We went to the…
