Photography © Jaime Diaz Martinez


Good Friday in April
          “How can you hide from what never goes away?”
              ― Heraclitus

Palm leaves are scattered upon the streets,
Along back alleys where the poor live,
Where criminals make plans, Before the hill known as Golgotha.
Rain washes away blood tracks, Where thousands have fled into exile;
The state of Israel made brutal raids into Gaza,
The night is aflame with death, jet fighters seeking out resistance fighters.
There is the usual talk of Judas and silver coins,
Cesar’s men come cloaked in espionage attire demanding,
Submission or death,
Neckties betraying their class, and those boastful men, Who are traitors wear American tailored suits.
It is Good Friday; you can hear prayers, On television stations,
The ways of the cross are mapped out for tourists
Who have lost their way. It is musty here in a dead city, a dry wind emerges,
And howling dogs run,
Along the streets of the North End, In a New England city.
Syria and Gaza were burning in past history,
Massacres in Homs reminds one of Spain in 1936,
Betrayal is lightly served with silver coins.
Gaza is burning, the siege yields up its tortured, In hospital beds.
Gutters are full of torn body parts, Sunlight illuminates the eyes of the dead,
It is Holy Week, and the shroud is alive, With sweat and fear,
Gaza will have its peace in due time.
The Garden of Gethsemane has ancient boundaries,
These days before Easter are paths of jetties, where The boats make their ways uncharted,
Amid a tragic laughter in our throats.
Passover like cancer enters into our bones,
Our faces burn with a fever, That is lost in the eddy of forgetfulness.
On this Holy week in cold April, I saw two birch trees entwined like lovers,
The cold spring day took me by storm.


Luis Lázaro Tijerina was born in Salina, Kansas. Mr. Tijerina has a Master of Art degree in history, concentration being military history and diplomacy. He is a published author of military theory, short stories, essays and poetry. Mr. Tijerina resides in Vermont.

Jaime Diaz Martinez is originally from Los Angeles, California. He has been residing in Paris for over 30 years. AFter many years of seeing so many photo opportunities passing, he decided to pick up his camera from storage some years back and from that day on the camera has been held over his left shoulder ready to come across fleeting or ephemeral street scenes. For Martinez Being able to photograph Paris streets is a unique opportunity, a city with fifty shades of grey or just heaven.

Tijerina and Martinez authored a collection, Camera Symphonica: Scores of Love, Uprisings and Pandemic, available now.