GOOD FRIDAY IN SAN IGNACIO
We're back in Baja, Sur
at the Hotel Presidente, riding on empty,
and it's 65 miles to the next Pemex.
We stalled at a granite oasis
where a Roberto Acosta died at age 21.
His blue iron cross bleeding with rust
etched with his dates 1956-1977.
Born after me, died before me.
Did he live a life worth choosing?
At the San Ignacio Mission
we walk amid pastel shrines,
carapaces to house the dead,
on Good Friday, under a waning moon,
listening to the rosary in Spanish,
the padre's face, lit by candles
and the dark gold sheen of the altar,
a subtle coinage of faith.
28 March, 1986
San Ignacio, Baja California Sur
added & revised 2/17
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