Arequipa

Beside the morning sun-lace window

Moonja threw pots

Her wheel didn’t stop

Giving for nothing

Earth brown arms, quiet gaze,

wet hands on clay

Inviting me to stay

On my walk-up block

An angel

In my wing

Meanwhile, 

Hades took a lover

Who, it so happened, lived with us 

And by her fists and fits

I came to meet 

The underworld too

A small child

A hair’s breadth out of reach

From the ocean breeze and kites

My Mother’s warm embrace

The smell of fire-kissed bamboo

Wise grandfather 

Healing waters

The Moon and her daughters

Sacred fire in your soul

Gonna heal you

There’s nothing kind or light

About a dull knife 

Wielding a confused mind

Killing trust

And robbing life

Look around

You see it all the time

In slums, on bikes, with canes

On private airplanes

Something deep that’s lost 

Or long since passed away

But then,

Does anyone 

get by 

unscathed?

Wise grandfather 

Healing waters

The Moon and her daughters

Sacred fire in your soul

Gonna heal you

On a dusty old bus

Heading out of Arequipa

A young boy dressed in rags 

Sings and hawks 

Chicletes, cigarettes and cheap chocolates

Must’ve made a deal

With the stars 

And their protectors

Nothing dim about him

Body, eyes, spirit receptor

Held by the womb of the sky

Selling gum and giving hope

That anyone can fly

Wise grandfather 

Healing waters

The Moon and her daughters

Sacred fire in your soul

Gonna heal you