Tuesday, April 16, 2013

[Poema 16] Long shot, wide angle

500 years
is a long
a high-definition screen
a wide angle shot
all the details are there
broken bones
broken tongues
weeping women
stick men
shadow peoples
500 years
somebody dreamed this
somebody dreamed something different

Not all our ancestors fell to their knees
for the same reason
some feel to pray
some to convert to christianity

All fell to be close to the land, the power
close to the ancestors
who dreamed a different future.

If you want to be close to the longest dream,
the deepest dream,
dreaming with all the ancestors,
fall to the ground
place your knees on the land
lay your face on the soil
lay still
until the next earthquake,
until the next tremor,
until the next volcano,
revolution is the patience of the earth
earth, the natural world, is the revolution
the revolution is to become an ancestor,
all of them
ancestors all:
four-footed, two-winged, extinct, emerging ancestors
Ancestors that crawled belly-down on the dirt
Ancestors that flew rainbow eyed in the wind
Ancestors that curled under the rotting woods
Ancestors that appeared in the excavations
The revolution is to be an ancestor.

The ancestors all of them smile, chant, chant, chant

What is human after all?
the human revolution
is to return
the flesh and bones,
the blood, skin,
the fingernails, the lungs
to the earth
feed the next ancestors-to-be.

Our nostrils will snort in the dust
Our lungs will return to the sea
Our bones will be scattered by the mouths of the hungry
Our words will rise, evaporate, into the sun
The only map of our human-ness that will survive
will be the constellations
hammering away.

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