June Senryū 2011

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~ young man, old man - thee | look, look, what do you see? | people, people living ~

the sacred mothers | fly overhead taking in | everything in sight

some still dreaming it | a bad dream unfurled | a dream that is just a dream

~ from this prayer room | we came out of the ground | singing ancestor songs ~

~ blue stairs to midnight | lead to stars and new moons | doors to other worlds ~

~ we are wild flowers | spring up anywhere we like | leave in our season ~

~tlaloc brings the rain | that the green tree frogs prayed for | it floods the house blue~

we write | our obsessions | ever present, and stuck | to the farthest edges within | our reach

shattered eggshells | so stark these beginnings | an end to a story

~ southwest of Shiprock | an ancient dried-up sea longs | to open water ~

it’s so difficult | to be the middle | Wednesday’s so green | a child of mercury | something to get over

~ la sirena | siren of the seven seas | underwater queen ~

in the new darkness | let us be unafraid | speak light into the world

waiting is a way | of testing patience | of practicing calm

~ she’s a heart bleeding | a wounded bird since you left | one drop at a time ~

ambushed by thunder | lightening walks, nightlights the sky | looking for a way

this shining morning | instead of soft boiled | we eat egg salad

Xolotl ~ O evil twin | our sins accompany me | in lightening and death ~

~ la luna luna | quienes ojos consuma | con su belleza ~
~ the moon, moon | whose eyes does she consume | with her beauty ~

rushed on a river | traveling down breakneck speed | until the calm bend

aqueous extracts | crystalline drops of the divine | ancients are we

oh the forth and back | the details of this and that | sometimes just too much!

yes, you are still here | in the ancient heart rhythms | of birds flapping wings | of train whistles in morning | in everything that is me

sometimes we feel so | like grieving all the world’s loss | deeply left behind

the blood red moon | was meant for you a heaven’s | sign of things to come

ones map of life | from red womb to resting place | a celestial web

you can’t kill your way out | of hate that you created | peace the answer

when you’re suffering | and it’s caused by your own head | time for a change

little people voice | infectious their happiness | joy in every note

loss comes in waves | some days it seems endless | then the sun breaks through

Tucson an ancient | ocean floor extending to | Shiprock and beyond

great muddy river | cradles a crescent city | swallows of moontides

Purple’s favorite | color is pink today | she says she sees seeds grow

little hands planting | learning of earth’s mystery| you give and grow more

his war was worn deep | no one knew his troubles ‘til | one day explosion

our stunted Summer | a Spring that circled backward | now winter in June

morning flowers | glorious possibilities | one more day

The dreaded dead | flowers those unkept promises | bereft of color

first light created | shone for thirty-six hours | then the rains came down

doorways between worlds | rattle and hum, cracks visible | soon to open

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© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2011