Rose Deliva
West Jessamine
Gethsemani
For all my brothers
I am situated among delicate, fragile forests
That reach out to me
And beckon me to join
The chorus of the springs of water
And the rocky earth,
The ancient earth
Of Gethsemani.
I am situated with the I AM
Who beckons me to join Him
In the fellowship of the Heavens
Of the brotherhood, and sisterhood.
Bells ring high in the steeple,
And the sound bounces and rings between my ears.
It’s time for Vespers
In the chapel
Full of pastel stained glass windows
That cast pale, gossamer shadows on the
Cold stone floor.
The brothers come out of their narrow rooms,
Dip their hands in the Holy water,
And bow before the throne and light
Of God.
Brothers join the choir in the chapel
In long, bleached robes,
And the rhythm of the chants holds me
In the palm of its hand.
I am surrounded with the love of I AM.
I am in Gethsemani,
Gethsemani,
Gethsemani.
Rio Yanaguana
For my grandfather, Louis.
I went to the river to see if it was sleeping,
And it was.
It said, “I spend my days in celebration,
And I must get some rest at night.”
After a minute, I turned to leave and it said,
“Suenas de mi”
So I decided to stay.
It told me it knew my grandfather,
And the way that he walked
Like the river itself, full of peace and
Graceful.
It knew me from birth, when I had
My own unique struggles
And it protected me.
The river pushed me to the edge of the earth
And said, “Esto es tuyo.”
I backed away in fear of falling
But it said, “You’re safe.
En el nombre del Padre, del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amen.”
It gave me a kiss with the breeze and whispered,
“Duerme bien, mi hija.”
Past Tenochtitlan
I talked with my grandmother on the phone that day,
And she told me she used to love to walk in the rain,
And come back sopping, dripping with water that had fallen
From the sky. “It was life,” she said.
So I decided to go walking in the rain, and
Hide myself between the raindrops and the earth.
I was wet and rained on down to my bones,
And I was hid in the time slipping away.
Grandma told me my time would go running off
Where no one could find it, like it had for her.
She told me that hers had traveled past San Antonio,
Monterrey, and Tenochtitlan, and was drowning
In the oceans and rivers,
Like her in the rain.
I wrinkled in the rain and withered in the sun
Time spun and ancient structures shattered.
The wind went walking and time went running,
And my grandmother and I
Traveled in waves and rain
Beyond the canyon.