My Last Run with the Bulls in Spain

Ultima Tiempo en Pamplona Para Mi Mariposa
The last run in Pamplona with the bulls

T
his blue black beast you see has the wine of my heart on his mighty horns. He has made a bouquet of red roses on my white blouse that matches my red cinched belt. I am bleeding now and my death is near. I see my angel in the mist, distant as always.

Today after much Don Pedro, I drank the liquid courage to take the run. My friends and family tried to stop me saying, "Miguel, she does not want you, she loves another, she will never love you." The bulls were calling me and the Don Pedro was burning my stomach. I knew I would bleed in the streets and dampen the horns of some mighty toro. It was not a question. I thought, if by chance the Goddess of Love would save me and show my Paloma, my Mariposa, that she was my only wealth, perhaps my fate would escape me. She had rebuked me for some time and I was lost in an ocean of love. I swam in it every day. I dove in it and stayed under until I could not breathe.

It was not enough. I must run with the bulls and spill the sangria of my heart. I did so that day and the big blue took me and flung me about like a doll. I felt no pain as I was already numb from the past. I felt nothing but release as my life's liquid seeped from my body. I saw the doves of El Centro fly away and she was with them, her wings so white and pure. As I ascended, the bulls slipped in my blood, and big blue was the only one standing, victorious over me in my death. But it mattered not, my family was right, she was never to be mine.


Copyright by Mic

hael (Miguel) Forbus