May 3, 1808 by Francisco Goya

 

May 3, 1808 by Francisco Goya

 

In his later years the Spanish artist

worked from the land of the deaf,

a state that may not ease life

but often among the very great

finds its role in art, the mind

adrift from all save its visions.

Incensed by Napoleon’s invasion,

and drawing  upon demons

he found in the depths of  silence,

he painted the horrors of war

and its violence to our humanity

at a pitch unmatched until Picasso.

Here, faces and bodies are posed

incredulous before the atrocities

of the French firing squad:

the Christ-like innocence

in the central figure, his arms

outstretched, as if on the cross,

joined by companions praying,

eyes and hands imploring mercy,

a pietà awaiting the arms of Mary—

all victims of a faceless monster,

the ordered ranks of legs and rifles                                                                                

formed into a symmetry of death, 

opposing the chaos of the terrified

caught in the jaws of gross evil,

the suffering of the helpless

in the last moment before the bullet.

 

Third Place Award, Pennsylvania Poetry Society, 2020