Maria Consuelo

Maria Consuelo Arroyo was born and was raised on the south side of town,

With eyes holding midnight, the face of an angel come down,

In softness and beauty she grew like a rose without thorns,

At fifteen she married, at sixteen her first child was born,

And time is a lover, the planter in ripeness who harvests your dreams,

And time is the river that sweeps us along in its stream,

It brings us together, then forces us cruelly apart,

And there’s no wrinkled crone, in her dry skin and bones,

Who is not a young girl in her heart,

Maria Consuelo Arroyo, she bore seven more on the south side of town,

And her love for her family like soft rain came whispering down,

Like flowers in a garden, they flourished in beauty and grace,

With their eyes, like dark mirrors, reflecting the love in her face,

And time is the traitor, yes, time is the villain who stalks on our stage,

The bringer of heartache, the bringer of wrinkles and age,

He brings us together, then forces us cruelly apart,

And there’s no wrinkled crone, in her dry skin and bones,

Who is not a young girl in her heart,

Maria Consuelo Arroyo, her man fell in battle across wine dark seas,

And her children were scattered like feathers that ride down the breeze,

She kneels in the darkness, nine candles she lights every day,

And Padre Alphonso remembers their names when he prays,

And time’s the black angel, a dark curandero who brings the long sleep,

And time is a shepherd who’s keeping good watch on his sheep,

So he brings back together the souls that he once tore apart,

And he comforts old crones in their dry skin and bones,

For he still loves the girl in their heart,

And time is a lover, the planter in ripeness who harvests your dreams…

Tim Henderson