Winterings

Colmena (photo: arnoldo colibrí)

In winter,

my dreams dream themselves,

the stories play on our beds

And life is life again

making love making

to procreate the spring . . .

Every season has her

nights and days

moons and disasters

Every season depends on winter

to rest

to recover our voices

to renew the roots

of the spring that can never be stopped:

The Palestine spring of humanity

The revolution to become a human spring

The spring of no borders, no wars, no prisons, no

proletariat, no homeless or homelandlessness

The spring of indigenous rivers and flesh offerings

The spring of Coalicues and Quetzalcoatles

The spring of migrant laughter and verdant palettes

The spring of clean water clean soil clean air clean suns

and liberation winds for our ancestors and their children's children

The spring of sun insurrections

The tender guerrillas, the pregnant rainbow warriors, of

spring

whose bodies stand against the shadows of the generals

and their

soldiers

police

money

banks and bankers

financiers

capitalists

and whoever stands under their darkness . . .

Our winter is

quilts and embraces

rains

clouds

snows

starry-filled skys

slow words

the DNA of our dreamings

August 2014