with bare feet she greets copper and verdigris skies
she stands upon the soft grasses of her yesterdays
looking up to catch glimpses of him in the blinding rays
she feels the heat rise from earth mother
like growing vines
molten, it rises upward through her toes and high arches
spinning like lightening to her core
it is a quickening
the prisms shooting through amber leaves
of the giant sentries
dance on the feathers in her hair
she is transported to the sand dunes
of her ancestors
a citrine immolation of her soul
a purification
it is eternal
she begins to sway
the roiling ichor is in tune
they are the stories of her grandmother
the hawk circling overhead
shrieks out her jubilation
and plunges and arcs
in synchronicity with her movement
she leaps like a waterfall
to dive into the cenote of memories
she longs to live there
where she died long ago
in el Lago De Los Siete Colores
all she can now see is the sheen of his hair
that hides his face as he lays her to rest
in this long ago life
she gave birth to sons and daughters of the sun
she is a descendant of herself
she is her grandmother all over again
the daughter of life
a being of breath and whispers
this she understands with clarity
as the energy force now settles within her
in harmony and balance
it is what she sought, all along
she bows in thanks for these gifts
the hawk lands on her arm
and she turns back through the shadowed pathway
to begin a new day
© 2015 Diana Noquetzal Garcia
Beautiful words!
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