November Senryū
2013
mizquitl tree | her place to sit | write letters to the future
this morning I wake | hearing jazz from your last room | know you are here
cuando dice un beso | siento miles | por todo el cuerpo
for survival | The People danced | all evil away
untangle this mess | we've made of Turtle Island | for children’s future
dance the balance | dance back clouds and rain |dance dance dance
we pray for the world | we are tiny bits of light | in the mother's web |
born powerful in word | our deeds should be for right
Georgia we miss you | secret smiles tucked in brush strokes | what a legacy
though innocent | our babies learn early | they are presumed guilty
sometimes praying | for loss of ones who've not loved | enough to deserve us
frosty autumn moon | full winter forecast | icy wind her companion
crows calling warnings | telling cars to quiet down | listen to the wind |
they say on the avenue | we so need to free ourselves
we traded places | you love my Great Lake city | I fell for the Bay
in the thickest rind of night | when moon-void-of-course | sky a thick inky soup |
she dances in the dark | wanting loved ones to return
a bigger purpose | our lives a journey to live | leave a legacy
your mighty voices | the sea's roar crying out | for all those now silenced
they void green worlds |turn them sacrifice zones | non-places where rivers burn
sand paper scorched | heart bleeding for a sure loss | mind guilty of hope
we are born and sprout | grow into lanky wild weeds | then one day we go |
with luck we sent out shoots | that bloomed brilliant as the stars
mornings I hear her | voice muffled through glass calling | I'm still here on the path |
of a destiny foretold | zigzagging trouble
mother tree a legacy | elders passing life |to the next of kin
death leaves a hole | we try to fill with living | and love an answer
misunderstanding | heartache wanting to be healed | when words aren't enough
smooth wooden boxes | relics from days before | cardboard became home
she is from this place | her blood mixed with rainwater | red earth in her skin
puny in comparison | to that which rises | a natural son |
or stardust and light daughters | not needful of false fingers
she flies away | always returns home | to her city by the bay
our ancestors die | pass away into the light | in time we follow
Copyright © 2013 Odilia Galván Rodríguez. All Rights Reserved.
