The world's oldest profession

 

Arnoldo García

The world's oldest profession

I practice
the world's
oldest profession
I tell the story of our suns
I tell the story of our dust
I tell the story of the rivers
that run in our veins
I named the directions
I named our bodies
against each other
to become one
to gestate ourselves
I tell the story of our resurrecting body
buried thousands of times
disappeared and disappeared
only to reappear in my lungs
exhaled as story, ours.
I cultivate the seeds
that sprout in our senses
I am the story-maker:
horizons
mountains
plains
deserts
forests
rains
winds
mud
oceans
waves
rivers
mirages
smoke
ancestors
illness
shadows
tears
laughter
ages
ants
muddy water
callous
rebirth
maize
migrations
skins
burials
flesh offerings
cries
musics
mothers
fathers
grandmothers
grandfathers
belly-button moon
bewilderness
sky-dirt
each of these stories
water in my mouth
I work
the land
the words
of everyone
of everything
of everywhere
I drag my tongue
on the bloodied battleground
I offer my tongue
in prayer for the hollowed land
I sacrifice all my stories
so that our story lives...

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