In the grove of Isla Negra,
his beloved by his side,
lies Pablo Neruda-
Does his grave conceal a lie?

Forty years since he departed,
Four decades in the clay,
A Judge in Santiago
calls him forth to light of day.

This poet was a mortal soul
whose love illumed his lines.
Was he murdered in the hospital,
or did cancer end his time?

He said Love’s time is brief
and is much longer forgotten-
But he could extend its lease
With Love sonnets he’d begotten.

Did Pinochet eliminate
The poet left alone.
He was lying in the hospital,
Defenseless, it was known.

Did a needle give that lover’s pinch
That hurts, but is desired?
Or did Cancer gnaw his bones
relentless like wildfire?

The bones will tell, They always do
Though mortal flesh decays
So we disturb the poets’ sleep
This resurrection day.