Mother Ixchel,
bring the children
home,
Mother Ixchel,
bring the children
home, the little
ones, the trusting
ones, who knew
only tender touch
from mother, father,
grandmother, grandfather,
sisters, brothers,
shot, slaughtered, cut
down, still tender-
Mother Ixchel,
bring the children
home that we
may feed them in
the morning, little
birds, undying song.
May the men who
slaughtered carry this
karma, dreaming
life times, tender souls,
Mother Ixchel, you are
tender, ruthless, loving,
pitiless, wise beyond
human
understanding, when
will they learn,
Mother Ixchel, bring
the children
home.
Singing.
Undying.
Little birds.
What I do
to you
I do
to my
self.
To the children in Syria, their families, May 2012...
fifty tender children under the age of ten slaughtered.
Alma Luz Villanueva
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
Turtle Island, our Earth
I appreciate the private emails I've been receiving from around the world, from Europe to Asia, gracias...again, feel free to post here if the spirit moves you. Some of you say you're having trouble posting here, who knows why. I love that there's so many poets in the world...people that love the spirit of poetry.
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