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The Way She Was
cc&d, v317 (the January 2022 issue)

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The Fountain Of Tears

David J. Thompson

The Civil War was just beginning when
the Granada Fascist police arrested Lorca
at the home of friends where he was hiding.
They held him for a few days at a city jail
where at least a family maid was allowed
to bring him coffee and food in the morning.
Then one day she was told that he was gone.

They handcuffed Lorca to a school teacher
with a wooden leg, drove them to a palace-
turned-prison just a few miles outside the city.
They told him he’d be assigned to a work crew
building roads or fortifications, but the next morning
they took the poet with the same crippled teacher
and two anarchists to a quiet spot in the nearby woods.
Here, next to a bubbling spring called La Fuente Grande,
and known centuries earlier in the time of the Moors
as the fountain of tears, they were executed;
Lorca shot three times, the last two point blank,
just to be certain. He was not yet forty, and still
wearing his familiar bowtie.

In what Lorca called The Kingdom Of Poetry,
beyond space and time, the wind blowing
through the bordering grove of olive trees
would have been the sound of endless weeping
from the desperately helpless, but in the real world
it was just a hot August breeze lost to the noise
of shovels digging four graves, with so many more
to come, in the rich Spanish earth.



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