Weren’t you waiting for me,
with those tight, folded eyebrows,
the candor of your mouth?
We mourn quietly, you and I,
eclipsed in the stairwell
unnoticed by the other visitors who
bustle toward the lily pads and ballet students
We look askance at those neck-stretching crowds,
unmoved by lives that endured plague, Inquisition, close combat of sword against armor
So much you have seen
I recognize it all in that occluded cheek
Those dark, unrelenting eyes
I feel I should comfort you
And yet still at the pinnacle of your strength,
When the brilliant painter of popes and princesses paused to construct this moment from a scribbler’s life,
To display your powers of discernment
Unbended
Frustrating a viewer’s solicitous dolor
So long a witness of the world!—
Of its incessant failings
The ravages of autocracy
Humanity’s stupidity
And you, so much finer than the painter’s preening kings and prelates,
end up here with me
in a stairwell
So great a portion of Velásquez portraits
lost to fire, suppression, or bureaucratic bumbling
Your appearance on this stairwell
after centuries of blind destruction
your continued gaze of wisdom and judgment
offers hope.
After viewing the Portrait of Don Luis de Góngora in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. De Góngora y Argote was an important poet of sixteenth-century and seventeenth-century Spain. Many of his poems are addressed to people and objects in his environment, including works of art. He was known for championing the use of words that were rare in his time, including brilliant, candor, construct, eclipse, frustrate, and portion.
This poem was published in issue 84 of Offcourse, March 21, 2021.
Andy Oram
October 5, 2020