Imagine

We can only imagine

what these two—

Francis and Fidel—

really had to say

to each other.

The Pope wondering

who really is the Holy Father here,

since everything he’s

preaching as holy

Fidel has already

fulfilled.

Fidel

seeing humor

in the Argentine’s unmistakable

Italian roots

and thinking pointedly

but not saying

politely,

like the good Jesuit

and Revolutionary he is:

My people have suffered

long enough:

Don’t mess this up.

God, it took you forever

to get to be Pope,

I imagine him saying

aloud.

You know it did!

Francis might reply.

And you know

exactly why:

that place I work at is a den

of murderers and thieves.

And if their stuff hadn’t

hit the fan:

evidence of

priests impregnating

captive Indigenous teens

in the past

and buggering white altar boys

in the present;

and folks starting to notice

the amount of stolen gold

and property

we have (enough to house, feed and clothe

pretty much every poor person on the planet)

they would never

have put me out here.

Climate Change

or no Climate Change.

I know, says Fidel.

They’re clever that way.

I used to wonder how you

stood it: sitting at the back

all those years

while they ruled

the world from every

parliament and throne.

Horrifically, too,

we can add.

And what about that apology business

that’s always trotted out?

They’re guilty of the torture and murder

of Earth and Her Peoples all over the place.

De Las Casas, for one, has told us

some of the worst of it.

And now they want to get away

with an apology!

Some don’t even want to do that, says Francis.

If the violated and exploited

took back their stolen lands and goods

from your fellow churchmen

and brutally drove them out of house

and home, after killing their parents

and enslaving their children,

would they be satisfied with an apology?

Oh, it’s been a challenge, all right.

I can testify to that, says Francis,

waving aside a camera.

And a personal one, for me:

it’s no fun

especially as you age,

to recognize your role

as a Conquistador

of Spirit.

A conqueror

of the people’s very spirits and souls!

The very definition of “devil”

I sometimes think.

When folks bow to me

I want to shout at them: bowing

to your masters

is what you were forced to do in the first place:

Straighten up!

And how bizarre that they want me to kiss their babies!

That is chilling, says Fidel. It isn’t as if our people

are ignorant of witch burnings

and the Inquisition. Even if they haven’t studied

Reservations in El Norte and

Indian boarding schools.

But cheer up. Who could have imagined

what the world is really like

when we were children?

We’re old now, but in spite of all we learned,

so much of it dreadful and scary, even

petrifying,

we gave Life

our best shot.

Perfection will have

to wait for the next incarnation.

And I mean of the world, not just us.