Lament por El Toro
Poem by Michael E. Lindsey

The coyotes howl – their plaintive cry
echoes through the midnight sky.

We sit around the campfire light
and wonder of El Toro’s plight

of a life on the streets of this mean town
that’s ruined many a man and struck scores down.

Alas… would the settlers who built Juarez city
now feel any shame… or even pity
for even this one who fell last night
let alone hundreds more who’ve died in the fight?

…and who will cry for this poor soul
whose life was so hard – not part – but the whole?

Will women come to see his final ground
and think of times in dance when he spun them round?

Will Mama cry and beat her breast,
“Why couldn’t this, my son, be different from the rest?”

We will miss his call as he used to pass by;
we’ll sit… and wonder… and yes, we will cry!

Good bye my friend Arturo, The Bull -
may you find rest for your weary soul.

Rest in peace, hermano.