A version of this content was originally published in Music, Memory (2014). Names have been changed to protect individuals' privacy.
Huaraz, Ancash Region, Peru
i. morning
we offer our sounds to dawn unfolding
cliffs pulsing with the life-throb of our drums
our melodies accompany the slither of shadows --
this is the Real World!
and i could stare for hours…
distant ice glows from within, suggesting
a million poems with every instant and
enough ecstasy to sob or scream --
can’t take this home
can’t have this forever…
first crescent of sun refracts off the air
a rainbow arch over the cordillera blanca:
red orange yellow green blue violet.,
startling breath of warmth in those rays; off come the
scarf hat gloves jacket
and i now believe in heaven
it is right here
right now –
how can you feel lonely
in the cradle of the Andes?
ii. evening
together we weave a blanket of flower petals:
[ ■ red - heart
■ white - healing, forgiveness
■ yellow - mental clarity
■ purple - metamorphosis ]
and i start with yellow
and maybe that means
i haven’t changed so much
after all…
later
i close my eyes
and Miguel sings to me
hand (safe) resting on my skull
(petals rain on my head shoulders lap eyelids)
and Maria presses some gently
into my palms
soft warm between my fingertips --
when i open my eyes:
red