Day of The Dead (Día de Muertos) — Image by kenne
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Remembering The Dead — Image by kenne
The Street
A long silent street.
I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall
and rise, and I walk blind, my feet
stepping on silent stones and dry leaves.
Someone behind me also stepping on stones, leaves:
if I slow down, he slows;
if I run, he runs. I turn: nobody.
Everything dark and doorless.
Turning and turning among these corners
which lead forever to the street
where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,
where I pursue a man who stumbles
and rises and says when he sees me: nobody.
— Octavio Paz
(This year’s All Souls Procession in Tucson is this Sunday, November 5th. Last year over 170,00 people walked or watched the procession.)
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Tucson All Souls Procession, 2015 2 comments
Joy and Kenne at the 2015 All Souls Procession — Images by kenne
Over the past year and a half Joy’s mother (Virginia) and my brother (Tom) passed away. To honor them, last night we participated in Tucson’s version of the Day of the Dead where tens of thousands of people in elaborate costumes walk in one of the nation’s largest processions honoring the deceased. The All Souls Procession is a uniquely Tucson community event that was launched 26 years ago as a way for people to publicly grieve their lost ones in an artistic way.
kenne
(Click on any of the gallery images to see larger view in a slideshow format.)
MIDNIGHT has come, and the great Christ Church Bell
And may a lesser bell sound through the room;
And it is All Souls’ Night,
And two long glasses brimmed with muscatel
Bubble upon the table. A ghost may come;
For it is a ghost’s right,
His element is so fine
Being sharpened by his death,
To drink from the wine-breath
While our gross palates drink from the whole wine.
I need some mind that, if the cannon sound
From every quarter of the world, can stay
Wound in mind’s pondering
As mummies in the mummy-cloth are wound;
Because I have a marvellous thing to say,
A certain marvellous thing
None but the living mock,
Though not for sober ear;
It may be all that hear
Should laugh and weep an hour upon the clock.
— from All Souls’ Night by William Butler Yeats
