Mama in the Sound of Spirit

Ma
Mom
Mamma
I hear you
calling my
Name

I am fine
I am sewing clouds now
and making blankets of rainbows
I am running through the woods
I always wanted to see

I ride elephants
and hear the music in the rain
I curl up under the wings of eagles
and ducks and the lumbering
joy of mountain bears.
I am right beside you
whispering your name
reminding you of
the love we learned to share

And your abuela
she is here too
we have mountains for couches
and trees with which
to stir the paints for brilliant skies

Do you remember my singing?
Open the windows during those
Southern storms and listen carefully
for the sweet harmony weaving itself
on a symphony
of torrential rains

Don't be afraid
of those gray skies
they're the curtains
of an awesome
performance for gods
and queens

Do not cry
sweet daughter
I am here
dancing on the waves
of an ocean of love for you
hearing your prayers
and offering you hope

stand up
child of sadness
and wipe your tears
and embrace your Mama
tu madre
tu Lucita
the light in your eyes
the idea in your head
the friend in your moments
of passion for making the world
a little happier
and its troubles soothed slowly
in the wealth of the goddess's
love and light.

@10/1998, Austin, Texas

Gate Number Wait

The man with the hat
waved goodbye
at the gate
the friend looked over
and realized all the planes were
delayed because
of air traffic and snow

calling it a day in a
comfortable place she could call
home
would come
very late

the fretting attendants
offered vouchers
and comfort
as they exchanged quick glances
and a few worried people settled
in for a long wait, naps
and glanced once more
at their watches
pulled out their books
to read
checkbooks to balance
phones to dial
and messages that could
be charged at half the rate

the pacing continued
and so did the snow and the rain
mindless chatter filled the room
the din of the heaters took away
some of the gloom
it was another day of travel
in the northeast
and another trip of no great
waste
as we all contemplated
the delayed flight we had
run for in cabs, trains and limos
with such
incredible haste.

@NYC-pre-9-11

Poeta Enamorada

Las palabras
que oí por la
primera vez
en mi vida
llenas de cariño
fueron en este dulce
idioma
el Español
Pero las palabras
que te dirigí
cuando por
primera vez
pude decirte
con toda mi mente
corazon y alma
"te quiero"
fueron en este dulce
idioma
que es la música
del amor

Siento no se qué

confundida
y cansada
de tanto arreglar
nunca podiendo
ver el camino
en frente de mí
nunca sabiendo
si estoy haciendo
lo que se requiere de mí

Lloro

Le pego a las páginas
con mi pluma
me jalo el cabello
gritos y llanto fuertes
se escapan de mi garganta
como tigres y leonas
escapándose de la jaula
con hambre
y coraje

Siento poco
siento demasiado
y te pregunto
por qué no me
das la mano
y me llevas
cubierta bajo tu mirada
y buena protección?

Porque no me dejas oir to voz
en esta noche larga que es mi
duda y falta de fé?

@Austin, Tejas 2009

Buddha's Pearls

He sits in peaceful meditation

something I have a hard time doing

He wears glittery beads

from a parade

and two candles in purple vases

flicker in front of him day or night

The Buddha's pearls belong to a mother

now gone who left

behind a daughter

who does not know

the Buddha but

tries to live like the Buddha

wearing pearls and seeking

peace in the soft shimmer of a

strand of beads each one like

a mark of time

at rest and yet alive

at once.

@Austin, TX July 2009

Yellow Page

The skin has weathered

on this right hand

where the veins hold a river

of the blood of my ancestors

incense fills the air

and on the waves of a smokey carpet

I travel in time

to the clink clink and sharp

aroma curling a path from

an incense holder

to the altar

dedicated to a lady in blue

surrounded by a

halo of stars

dots of light

streaming down

like from a strand of Christmas lights

a faint memory of my teen years

inside the nunnery school

where life was so simple

obey

sometimes rebel

be cared by substitute

mothers, teachers

in black and white

the wives of the Christ

I longed to embrace

and be like at once

The skin on my face

has weathered

leaving a half smile

etched on this older face

tentatively looking into

the foggy distant future

of my own life

The skin like

this yellow paper

is

weathered but still here

use-able

and kind.

Austin, TX July 2009

WTC Ashes in the Air

I am the dust in the air

the fallen ashes

in the wind

after a terrible disaster

I am joined in my heart and sorrow

with the souls whose bodies

shattered instantly

in a huge ball of exploding flame

I am in the tears and the fears that engulfed us all

as those towers came tumbling down

I am in the ashes that are our collective grief

I am in the hope that must follow

that we will learn a lesson of compassion and that wise decisions

that are capable of generating peace

will come forth from

the structures of power

that remained standing

I am alone today in my sorrow

my pain

and my desire to comfort the children

the families

the neighbors and friends

But I am with the

ashes that flew in the air

as we all stared

and released our hatred

and our fear

I am not happy

to sit here feeling

like I have nothing to do to help

But I am after all only one of millions

who was lucky not to be a victim

in this disastrous day that

has stopped us in our tracks

and forced us to see the thinness

of the wall between walking

on the solid earth one moment and flying

into the next to another life

as windswept

ashes in the air.

Chicago, September 12, 2001

Drip and Fold

Drip goes the faucet

in the kitchen

the roar of crashing waves

on a shore recorded

for this weathered

tape I play as

I drip drip tears of

longing for the company of

friends

anyone

beyond the placid

indifferent cat

stony books

laundry to wash

to caress and fold

as if hugging a starched

lover's shirt

might fill

a sky's scrape for love

lunging forth

from a hungry soul.