The modern gladiator

 to·re·ro

təˈrerō/

noun

1. a bullfighter.

 

It’s amazing the things one finds while browsing Netflix.

For example, the other night I came across a fascinating documentary called Gored. It’s about Antonio Barrera, a famous Spanish bullfighter who has been gored in the ring 23 (23!!!) times, yet has never let the danger deter him. In fact, one might argue that the danger itself is what spurred him to devote himself even further to developing his craft.

As I was pulled further and further into Barrera’s story, I realized that for those who call themselves toreros, bullfighting truly is an art.

Bloody, yes.

Barbaric (at least to an outsider), yes.

But there’s also something noble and glorious about the struggle between matador and bull. It’s like a lethal dance they share, one of drama and adrenaline and rhythm, terrifying yet poetic in its tragedy.

I can’t remember any time before this that a documentary actually brought me to tears, and it seems ironic that I could have found such powerful inspiration in a film called Gored, of all things. But, there you have it.

 

Barrera

The bullfighter kneels

jaw set

spine erect

cape spread like a curtain,

both shield and invitation.

On resolute shoulders

a thousand glinting threads

reflect the Spanish sun—

a suit

woven of golden light.

 

The bull thunders, but

fear is nothing

for the torero whose eyes shine like mirrors,

and death

is a mere acquaintance.