After the Fall: Poems Old and New

Colombian Gold

Colombian Gold On a Colombian folktale told to me by Jaime Manrique 1 On the day God created the earth, all the angels flew round and round, singing chorales of praise. But over one place they stopped, beating the air with their angel wings, as their inspired voices rose to heaven. Here alone, they trilled, is paradise on earth and it’s called Colombia! Yes, God said, beaming at them wickedly, but wait till tomorrow and see who I’m going to populate it with. 181 2 On the day God created the earth, all the angels flew round and round, singing chorales of praise. Day after day they celebrated as God produced from his fingertips plants and creatures, and, according to an ancient tradition, in a final burst of genius, a diadem of cities. A chorus of hallelujahs rose from the angels over the glitter of Paris, London, Rome, until fluttering in convoy over Columbia, District of, they looked down in awe at God’s masterpiece, a perfect gem of a city with domed capitol and avenues radiating like the rays around the crown of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom. Hail to the city of Washington, the angels sang, from whose marble temples and pillared halls the people will be justly governed and an eternity of goodness reign over the earth. 182 Don’t be too sure, said God with his slyest grin. Wait till tomorrow and see who I populate it with. And then I’m going to do nothing for the rest of time but sit back and laugh, watching what happens. 183 ...