Wednesday, April 2, 2014

The Reckoning

In a house of desert stone

the sun first shines – on a wash bowl

and pitcher half-filled with water.

The other half sinks into the skin

of a woman who arose

with lamplight and the need to write.


Having washed off

the sweat of old dreams

and some tears, she listens

to the wind. Outside the soft

hum of womanly song

hangs over the saguaro

like wool on a spindle

waiting to be spun

into her own grief or joy.


A gospel of living

she wants to leave her daughters

before she journeys thin

and transparent into the field. Her ancestors there

singing at the edge of a trail

once traveled by wagons. Now by coyotes.

They breathe in dust – almost tasting

the salt of unseen hands

that reach out for a tribeswoman. She

who will come soon with ink

on her skirt. The brewed scent

of red pepper and cocoa

on her breath.
Note -- the ancient Aztecs brewed chocolate as a drink with red hot pepper. It was
considered a spiritual drink with magical properties.



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