Sorrow is no longer a word….as sadness….
They are no longer words
If you are brown……if you are the
Other….they have not been words for us
For a long time….
They exist with us….
Fear is a word to us….
It marks the path of our enemies….
They are not like us…we can smell their dead souls….
Their empty shadows….
Dog soldier song
For El Paso
Dreams crossing a field of yellow flowers
Names falling out of them as they pass…
Where the footprints of migrants…
Are etched in dried mud of human misery….
Between each word sung or spoken….
Screamed or begging….
A sacredness resounds
In the minuscule….
It’s rounded motion….
Speaking in its spirit voice….
Toward our inward yearning….
Where the immigres toil in 100 degree temperatures
The child within us must awaken….
Your smile the darkness under a leaf….
Color of your lovely eyes…..
We bring our prayers to release you from hunger
We take your soft breath within ours…
As the river weeps….
Your arm around your father…
For Oscar Alberto Martinez
For Angie Valeria
26 Jun 2019
Soft rain embraces the flowers with its silence
Night rings its ancient bells after
The lightening strikes….
All around light that has hidden in clouds
Opens its eyes….
Looking for you….
For our mothers
12 May 19
In the rain just now
The smallest stones on the shoreline light their lamps….
Every morning the same songs unsung
Hang from the trees where the owls sleep….
Soft songs melting through the leaves
The fragile leaves….
Hiding among the death masks
The still open hands….
Over which a song I have dreamt all my life
Silence is heavy
As it carries all its loved ones
Ones whose silence lives in the water
Ones whose voices begin and continue in a language
We have yet to learn
It sings in the between breath of the newborn
It weeps with the hearted ones whose prayer is the dawn
And the last breath of a child and the last breath of a
Mother and the last breath of a soldier
is followed by silence
We see our silence
Not as we knew it
And we wish to return to it
Though we are too changed….
From the dead zone texts
Poem number five
17 December 2016
I burn silver sundance sage….I burn red homeland cedar….
I send the ashes..
From a feathered tip
Toward the massacred
Who are everywhere…..
From the stronghold
From the dead zone hymnal
Vanishing in the void
Shadowless in our breathing
eyes closed as we listen to the
Vacant as rainless sky
Blood on the pale stones
A river has no name..the sound it knows of wind
It’s singing self..
It’s long memory
Bereft of longing..
Full of human invasion
Rests in its essential movements..
It is possible for a river
To sing inside a soul..
It is you..
For berta caceres
From the stronghold
5 March 2016