stark, barren, arid mountains 
bear silent witness 
to the makeshift burial of a 
comrade below
whose friendship with the ever present 
presence of death 
came to fruition 
one day in an abortive air raid 
on a town permeated with the fascist presence 
in this country spain now in the throes 
of revolutionary obliteration

time now for the incomparable expressions 
of the peasants for whom this airman 
was much beloved 
as they descend down the ravine 
with his coffin 
sweeping the stones away on the path 
in front of this procession

for them his final resting place 
will forever be holy 
for he sacrificed all for the 
sake of a cause that was theirs

man is not limited 
in his capacity for sorrow or compassion 
even in the throes of death for a 
hopeless cause

and i watched the peasant woman in the 
black shawl genuflect and pray for him 
thinking to myself 
of coming battles in towns and at crossroads 
never before seen by me

i know that history is the great equalizer 
that never forgets