The Valley

The paths of the past come in

from every direction.

I.  We enter the valley on pasofinos;

          Pass through forests of flamboyan and almendros.

An afternoon sprinkle wets our brow.

                             Not a cool shower,

                             but warm and salty

                             like human tears.

          Yes, this must be the Valley of Love.

II. We gather at midnight-- our sufferings--

          to console each other,

          calmed in waters of His Remembrance.

          The lonely heart and its company of tears

                             make camp another night

                             on the long journey home

                             to God.

                                                                   -- C.S. Cholas

                                                                   Vieques, Puerto Rico, 1984