Para la Reina de las Américas

(There's a full and final sound of a glove connecting solidly with a heavy bag.  It's here and gone as quickly as the punch that causes it.  It's the sound of the blink of an eye.

There's something about athletes who bless themselves with the sign of the cross before an event.  It's a bit of magic that touches the primordial.  The gesture is eternal, the edge is internal

It has been said that Spanish is the Loving Tongue.  I think Spanish is the true language of prayer, and the only language the Higher Powers recognize.  I don't know why that is, it just seems to be true.

The sound, in parentheses, can't be said.  It has to be the sound of a punch hitting the bag.)

Para la Reina de las Americas

(Whap!)

Dios te salve, Maria,

Llena eres de gratia,

Estas son mis manos.

Y esta es la verdad.

(Whap!)        

El sonido de la verdad.

(Whap!  Whap!)

Esto es yo.

(Whap!)

Madre de Dios  (Whap!)

Madre de Dios  (Whap!)

Madre de Dios  (Whap!)

Esta es la verdad

El sonido de la verdad

Estas son mis manos

Y esto es yo

Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.

(Whap!)

Amen.  

For The Queen of the Americas

(Whap!)

Hail Mary, full of grace,

These are my hands

And this is the truth.

(Whap!)

The sound of the truth.

(Whap!  Whap!)

This is me. 

(Whap!)

Mother of God  (Whap!)

Mother of God  (Whap!)

Mother of God  (Whap!)

This is the truth

The sound of the truth

These are my hands

And this is me

Now and at the hour of our death,

(Whap!)

Amen.