05-08-2014, 07:17 PM
Lined by Che's unfallen apples
the arroyos in front
and back of my house
aren't filled
by a flood of history
there is no desire
to break their banks
carve a new path
create a new order
streams and rivers change
only when overwhelmed
by volume and force
the children tease:
men don’t sweep
nor scrub dishes
nor wash clothes
by hand in the river
I smile back
in my world they do,
or at least they can
revolutions are ultimately won
snapping soapy cloth
between fists,
rinsing plates,
and coaxing dirt
the rains have come,
now I spend my mornings
sweeping out the wings
of flying, mating, dying insects
sweeping them out by the thousands
frustrated as they resist
caught up in currents of air
floating up and settling down
nearly where they began
wings - alas the children tell me
reminding me of the word for soul.
almas - growing, living, dying
nearly where we began
Years later
same rough hewn planks
same translucent wings
but instead of history's march,
alas, o almas perdidas,
I see the tumult of air
rather than the flutter of souls
at terminal velocity
I see, propelled by corn bristles
the trajectory of energy
passing through perceived form
I see a sweeper,
insubstantial as the
membrane of rising
and falling wings
I understand
these termites pass instinct
through generations of young
moment to moment
life to life
each sweep
each flight and fall
backwards and forward
learning and relearning.
finally, wings flutter into sunlight
out the door, settling into mud
it seems so little has changed.
I recognize their faces
in their sons & daughters
only men with brooms & soap
are no longer foreign
now wives and girls work
in zonas francas,
as maids in towns,
o afuera
making-do is not the same
as overcoming
whether
a mass of humanity beyond breaking,
a single life beyond control,
or a violent force of beginningless karma
whether rushing torrents
or swirling currents
it's still about liberation, but
instead of the sweep of revolution
I see the movement of action and intention
I mind the breath and whisper
be determined, be patient, and finally be free.
------------
the arroyos in front
and back of my house
aren't filled
by a flood of history
there is no desire
to break their banks
carve a new path
create a new order
streams and rivers change
when overwhelmed
by volume and force
The rains have come
reminding me
my view of revolution
has changed
the children tease:
men don’t sweep,
nor scrub dishes,
nor wash clothes
by hand in the river
I smile back
in my world they do,
or at least they can
victories are first won
snapping soapy cloth
between fists,
rinsing plates,
and coaxing dirt
I spend my mornings
sweeping out the wings
of flying, mating, dying insects
sweeping them out by the thousands
frustrated as they resist
caught up in currents of air
floating up and settling down
nearly where they began
wings - alas the children tell me
reminding me of the word for soul
floating up and settling down
nearly where they began.
Years later
same rough hewn planks
same translucent wings
but instead of history's
inevitable march,
alas, o almas perdidas,
I see the tumult of air
rather than the flutter of matter
I see conflict of gravity, inertia
the trajectory of energy
a sweeper moved by
the same thinly-veiled forces
insubstantial as the
membrane of rising
and falling wings
these termites pass instinct
through generations of young
moment to moment
life to life
each sweep
each flight and fall
backwards and forward
learning and relearning.
finally, wings flutter into sunlight
out the door, settling into mud
it seems so little has changed.
I recognize their faces
in their sons & daughters,
but men with brooms & soap
are no longer foreign.
wives and girls working
zonas francas,
maids in towns,
o afuera
making-do is not the same
as overcoming
roaring torrents
a mass of humanity beyond breaking,
a single life beyond control,
or a violent rush of beginningless karma
I catch what's left
of myself
it's still about liberation, but
instead of the sweep of revolution
I see the movement of action and intention
I mind the breath and whisper
be determined, be patient, and finally be free.
[i]Arroyo: Spanish for stream or dried stream.
Alas: Spanish for wings.
Almas: Spanish for souls.
Zonas Francas: Free trade zones, where foreign companies can manufacture products, taking advantage of low wage markets at reduced rates of taxation.
Afuera: Spanish for "outside". "Trabajo afuera" is often used as an expression for working out of the country.
Karma: Sanskrit for willful action. Here it refers to the momentum, or energy resulting from willful action that propels existence