Has arrived on the wings of the spring.
A River might sink into the desert’s womb.
This is lovemaking. It is not resignation.
Trust me.
A skinny grain of barely left on the ground
Has suffered a heavy stampede,
punched and kicked around thousand times
She became one with panic and torture and she prevailed.
She celebrated the physical death.
And this spring, she comes back and smiles to us.
Standing elegant, long and serene .
She declares:
Look at me now. I’ve moved through tunnels of fire.
I found wisdom in my fragility and hope in my suffering.
Now who can stop the light in my eyes
From bathing the entire field?
Who can contain my glory
Between the confines of human ignorace,
between greed and endless pursuit of fame?
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