The village

Posted on: 30 May 2021

Spring in Bayacas, Spain

This lime-washed
Crumbling patchwork
Of dreams

Creaking with ragged remnants
Stories of lives gone by

Blessed refuge
From this ravaging war
Of the minds

In a time of this and that
When nothing much makes sense

Without words
We quietly stitch together
Reclaimed scraps
Of faded wisdom

So one day
Our childrens’ children
May come to hear
A tale of triumph
In fragmented times

Of simple folk
With courage

Who trusted one another
And cared just enough

To unite hearts, hands and hope
And weave a different story
Of life.

The village

Sam Lacey