Terra cotta tiled roofs descend into view,
wasted white on an egg-yolked sun
rising on homes, carrying tales of bells
with distinct rings; I turn my back
so death won’t take my soul … like those
old abandoned buses lying in a caressing,
cold crevasse, watched over by
a stream of crosses resurrected on
mountainsides, playing tag as you
El Diablo sinking his limbs and horns into red clay,
ready to give a slight nudge into
unforgiving, but loving arms of trees.
When no-one wants to claim you, only to
keep you as a trophy for their lost day,
landscapes can embody space, giving
it life, a personality.
*Excerpt from Diario Despertar de Oaxaca
El “Espinazo del Diablo”, leyenda mixteca:
Indeed, they found the wounded dying, and a bus turned over the precipice, over three thousand meters, with more than 30 people dead and at least two seriously injured, who testified that a beautiful woman with long hair made the driver stop and caused him distress.
Thus began the accident in the “Devil’s Backbone,” unquantifiable in all forms.
You can still see the remains of some buses overturned and traces of where they tried to cross the road to inform people and Mixtec communities.
On top of the hill is a chapel of the Virgen de Guadalupe, there are pictures of the Virgin of Juquila and a number of crosses, witnessing the misfortunes that occurred in the “Devil’s Backbone.”
ESPINAZO DEL DIABLO
Carretera Huajuapan Juxtlahuaca