Let Us Live in Truth.
We Know that Life
Can be a Lonely Garden
With Slow Minutes,
or a Sea that has Slipped Away.

My Wish: To Live With Open Hands,
To See with the Eyes of A Child,
To Celebrate the Fire Beneath My Skin,
To Dwell on the Rooftops of Love,
To Die a Small Death.

There are Unknown Colors
that can Alter Our Hearts.
Paint With that Palette.
Be as Weightless as a Petal.
Fill that Empty Sky and Dance.

Jillita-The Happiest Chica in the World

Jillita-The Happiest Chica in the World
Photograph by Rick Peterson

Thursday, October 22, 2009

la paloma

we were already sad
enough as we watched
a perfect blonde child
prance by the fountain
at belles artes.

did you see it,
she cried,
moving delicately
on her small
dancer toes.

paloma,
you echoed
in spanish,
not once but twice.

you and i,
we were already sad.
enough.
it was too close
to goodbye
and a moon
that never makes
you smile.

and if there was
a beautiful white dove
soaring above
all the darker birds,
what did that mean?

i do not know why
adults do not listen
to children.
they see the things
we skim over
because we are trying
to cope with a world
that is less
than heaven.

somehow
we forget to fly,
we lose our wings,
our voices become mute,
and mysteries
turn from dusk
to dawn.

the young girl
called out again,
this time
with more exuberance,
pointing a slender finger
towards the sky.

the clouds rolled
towards us,
from horizon to horizon,
across the celestrial,
without a beginning
or an end.

in one long sweep
everything changes.
there is nothing
left to say.
the child swirls
with the palomas
below us,
both leaping
with joy.

the last line of life
is suddenly
within sight.
i imagine there are feathers
tucked inside our hands;
winged creatures
brush against us.
they are everywhere.

san miguel de allende, mexico
june 2006

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