Alba de Tormes 1975
I saw your relic that they kept
One sleepy Spanish afternoon
When the sun chased both man and beast
From the torrid streets of Alba.
The year was nineteen seventy five
And we were twenty five
Young Legionaries of Christ
Herded inside the dark church walls
Dressed in black soutanes
With shiny hair and shiny shoes
And bright white smiles
Young innocents of God.
During our twelve month stay
In proud and fusty Salamanca
Whose academic reputation lay baking
In the scorching heat nearby.
We gathered round Teresa
Or what was left of her
We who had hardly seen a female ankle
Were left gazing at her heart.
But the memory never left
The image that was etched
The presence of a saint
In a hot and blasted landscape.
A strange and noble place
Where history seemed to freeze
And time stood still
Where history turned few pages.
The black soutanes unchanged
For decades and for centuries
Til change came sweeping through
The year that Franco died.
