Delsa Lopez
Apology to a pleiade
(To colleagues close to me in spirit and heart)
Pleiade that you have not
stepped on the roads of Úbeda, you do not pretend to taste delicacies in the
Cenacle, nor are you part of the seven Alexandrian poets. You, who, according
to some say, are only Yguajayan writers who live blotting out the early
mornings and throwing modesty into the Máximo River, or as others proclaim,
buckets full of attributes that God deposited in your wells to make the Ferris
wheel turn and raise them to the height of the consecrated; or also as
patentarais in your statutes, a pleiad that joined efforts to confront dragons
and cut rotten councils, anonymous in the high councils, due to ignorance, or
the inconvenience of meeting you.
I, colleague who has walked
your paths and has been enlightened with the halos of your wisdoms, can
authentically tell you who you are and with what you were anointed. Your
pregnant numen will not shrink from lack of light. Your spiritual elegance will
shine with Alcyone. I also know what you are up to. As Argonauts you go in
search of Fleeces and you will find Chrysomallos that will transport them on
their wings to such a distant place, like the orography that marks their
borders: Parnassus.
I know you well and I know
who you are, as those who pretend to know the history of great men will know in
the next millennia.
Delsa López Lorenzo. Cuba.
