Dear World, dear Earth, dear Angel Of Despair And Joy...January 6, 2011

(Continued from January post)-

Los Angeles, The Angels, at noon,

Angel Of Illegal Immigrants, Spanish,

Vietnamese, Chinese, Cambodian spoken

on the streets, many more, do you

sing in every human language,

Turtle Islands, once the massive

Tortoise emerging from primal,

cellular swirling sea, from

space blue blue blue womb

water, I hear you singing on

the streets of Los Angeles, your

sweet clear voice pierces my

stubborn, persistent, will-to-live

human heart...Angel Of Dreaming

Immigrants, Angel Of Native People

Of This Continent (their drums, their

voices, their rattles, dance, song,

keep us alive, ancient prophecy

coming home, coming home to the

streets of Los Angeles, The Angels, the

Earth, coming home), Angel Of The

Ancient Trade Routes, Angel Of

Shimmering Shifting Borders,

Angel Of The Dispossessed ,

Angel of The Possessive,

Angel Of Diamond Light Eyes,

I hear your sweet clear voice

piercing even the concrete, flowing

over the Pacific, her still fertile,

swelling waves, piercing every

stubborn human heart, our

Angel Of Despair And Joy,

I hear you singing in every

language, I don't know

the words, what I hear/feel,

your harsh, persistent healing.

* * *

Santa Cruz, Holy Cross, ancient

symbol of healing (not the crucifix),

night, oh Angel Of Scattered

Families, oh Angel Of Gathered

Families, how do we stand to feel

so much, I wonder, these gathered

memories from sheltered womb to

open door, the delicious, terrifying,

lush, killing, O beauty, O horror,

this human world,

this perfect Earth,

O Angel Of Diamond Light Eyes,

O Angel Of Terror And Wonder,

O Angel Of Despair And Joy,

O Angel Of Scattered, Gathered

Families, the families we're

born to, birth to,

the families we create,

O Angel Of Endless Weeping,

O Angel Of Endless Laughter,

we heard your harsh, persistent

voice, healing, and we danced,

oh we danced to your song,

terror, oh the wonder,

at the edge of Santa Cruz,

at the edge of Los Angeles,

at the edge of Mexico City,

at the edge of every floating,

rooted Turtle Island continent,

at the very edge of our Cosmos,

O Angel Of Diamond Light Eyes,

keep watch as the ancient prophecies,

the ancient trade routes, come

home, keep singing your harsh,

persistent, healing song, every language,

O Angel Of Despair And Such

Joy.

* * *

(Watsonville, Califas, a few miles south of Santa Cruz...)

My granddaughter works with the

Farm Workers, their children born

two fingers to each hand, im

perfect (as my four children

were born perfect), spraying

of the fields, their parents

with cancers, dying

to pick the food of

millions, fresh cheap

food at the supermarkets,

ICE separating illegal parents from

their legal children- we marched

over thirty years ago, still they

spray the fields (every where, this

Turtle Island), two fingers to a

hand, the im perfect children, to

their parents perfect- my youngest

son works with the families of the

dispossessed, the hungry, no

food or refrigerator to hold it, no

place to sleep (bed, mattress), no

place to sit (couch, chairs), no

table to gather (food food), the

country of wealth, abundance,

one in four children are hungry,

Martin Luther King, "The worst violence

is poverty," O Angel Of The Farm Workers,

O Angel Of Toxic Food,

Angel Of The Im Perfect,

Angel Of The Perfect,

Angel Of Violence,

Angel Of Healing,

Surround each field, unfurl

your wings, tip to tip,

O Angel of Diamond Light Eyes,

the terror, and always

the wonder.

*To my youngest son, Jules...and to my granddaughter, Ashley.

To all the daily human angels, wing tip to wing tip,

every Turtle Island, into

The Sixth World.

Alma Luz Villanueva

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico