Dear World, dear Earth,
dear La Ixchel,
dear Sacred Mockingbird,
                                                           January 2013
You must not kill a 
Sacred Mockingbird
because they sing 
for us sun to moon

to sun, learning up
to 200 songs in their 
life time, they sing
their tiny hearts out

for us till they cease
to fly the wind into
sunlight, moonlight, they
mark our moments, our

days, our dreams,
fresh songs, memorized
pulsing hearts, they
ask for nothing, only

sun, moon, wind, berries,
to fly sun to moon to
sun, learning songs, to
simply live, within our

dreams, our human
memory, their berry
rich songs, up to
200 in a life time.

I wonder, oh I wonder,
what songs, their voices,
each voice, each dream,
each fully lived life,

their 200 songs ripened,
each one had to sing
sun to moon to sun, their
flight cut short, each

one...
Charlotte Bacon, 6 years old
Daniel Borden, 7 years old
Olivia Engel, 6 years old
Josephine Gay, 7 years old
Ana M. Marquez- Greene, 6 years old
Dylan Hockley, 6 years old
Madeline F. Hsu, 6 years old
Catherine V. Hubbard, 6 years old
Chase Howalski, 7 years old
Jesse Lewis, 6 years old
James Mattioli, 6 years old
Grace McDonnell, 7 years old
Emilie Parker, 6 years old
Jack Pinto, 6 years old
Noah Pozner, 6 years old
Caroline Previdi, 6 years old
Jessica Rekos, 6 years old
Avielle Richman, 6  years old
Benjamin Wheeler, 6 years old
Allison N. Wyatt, 6 years old

In the beautiful film, To Kill A
Mockingbird, Scout says, about 
harming another, "It's like killing a
mockingbird, isn't it?"


**To the twenty little birds killed in
Newton, Connecticut, and the parents
who will not hear their so sweet, ripened
songs.

Alma Luz Villanueva 

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

ALEGRIA

Returning a mi casita,
students glowing joy light,
family children holy fire,
old friends volcano

core and ash filling
the sacred Sixth
Sun, I was sad,
all alone, all one,

the word rose out
of me, womb to heart
to throat, a cry,
ALEGRIA, Yaqui rattle,

red rose, green leaves
painted, gourd handle,
I began to cry/sing,
"Alegria  alegria  alegria,"

rattle song, each
room, mi casita, up
the stairs, bedroom,
bath, more stairs, the

roof, "Alegria  alegria
alegria," flocks of 
white winged birds tipped
their wings, laughing, my

ancestors laughed/wept,
joined me, "Alegria  alegria
alegria" esta vida of
sorrow joy sorrow joy,

let me swim oh swim
its vast glittering ocean,
let me dance each
step as though

for the first time,
let me kiss each
beloved face, the 
first time, alegria,

let me remember
simple love of
children's tender fingers
around my neck, baby

scent crown chakra,
lover's sweat merging
mine, shy trusting
eyes meeting, each

friend a flower
dazzling eyes and 
heart, to the lovers
who were first

friends pistil stamen,
the letting go of beloved
body, not the Spirit,
returning in dreams,

we know each other
not by names (although
   I name you), not by
faces (although I 

   remember you), not
by scent, laughter, voice
   (I remember, always will),
we know 

each other
alegria
simple love
alegria...


Alma Luz Villanueva
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
January 2013...'13' the Mayan number
of magic, Sacred Self, Sacred Other...

**To Meliza Orantes, who danced on
table tops in Paris, her dazzling smile, 
Spirit, always alive...

SACRED CHILD

Circular pan dulce,
Rosca de Reyes,
Ano Nuevo, New Year,
we begin (oh again),

cutting, biting carefully,
sweet bread, the
surprise baked in,
break your tooth in

half, surprise, gift,
cut/bite carefully,
the Sacred Child
emerges in clay,

the Sacred Child
emerges in us all,
bite carefully, kiss
tenderly, s/he emerges

laughing/weeping
into the Sacred
Sixth Sun, the
next 5,200 years,

the Sacred Child
so alive, singing
us home, singing
us Home.


Alma Luz Villanueva (c)
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
January 1, 2013

*#13, Sacred Mayan number, magic/mystery unfolding... Sacred Self, Sacred Other, Sacred Child...one planet, one people, into the Sacred Sixth Sun...

(To my son, Jules, who works daily with families, children, teens at risk in California, his work inspires me, his stories. He knows the families with no food, no furniture, teens of color who are in (great) danger of going directly to prison- he counsels them and also finds them food, furniture, and they give him JOY. And to all those who do this daily hero/hera work...Sacred Self, Sacred Other, Sacred Child alive in the world, gracias, amor, mas milagros (miracles)....

CEREMONY

Climbing the Sixth Sun,
Sacred Sun Pyramid,
straight up, warm
Sun, cool morning

Wind God pushes me
up, I pause to
breathe deeply,
drink water, a boy

of four behind me
begins to cry, he's
thirsty, forgot to
bring him water, I

offer mine, he smiles
and drinks- work at
the top, not able
to climb to the top, a

great-grandmother in her
eighties is helped to
the almost top, her
family bracing her,

no one's bracing me, it
seems to be my path,
to climb the Sacred
Pyramid of the Sixth

Sun alone, the only
(grown) child I miss
is my youngest, but
la vida calls him,

as it should, his own
family, families in great
need, a daily warrior
in the world, and I

needed to come alone,
all one, to greet
the Sacred Sixth
Sun, and one thirsty

four year old boy.
Unable to climb to the
top, I circled my
rattle singing, next

year I will be a 
great grandmother and
no one will brace me,
yes, they will love me,

that's allowed, maybe
in my eighties when I'm
a great great grandmother,
maybe, right now the 

waiter's read my mind,
plays native flute, drums,
rattles, my birth 
day gift, so

well deserved, bird
song, rattles, all day
sacred white butterflies
followed me, yellow

monarchs, little bees,
brash young men, "Hola 
hermosa...I have a 
special gift for you...

Take it, it's free," I 
don't do my usual come
back, "I'm old enough
to be your grandmother," 

now I'm old enough 
to be your great grandmother,
I just laughed- right now
the music is only rattles, 

the sound of sweet 
bones, the ancestors
winging home, I'm
a baby, I'm an 

ancient, I'm not
born, I'm dead/transformed,
I'm newly born, always
to the song of rattles,

sweet bones winging us
home, dancing us home-
I just told the waiter, 
my youngest son's age, 

"This music, flute, drums,
now only rattles, is
perfect, gracias."
"It suits this place,

your presence (he
doesn't bullshit me
with senorita, I've
been called senorita 

all day, I laughed, they
want some thing, my
smile, my money, my
life)- he's an eagle 

dancer, a deer
dancer, a wind
dancer, a Sun
dancer, I know

his mother loves him,
he loves his mother,
the women in his 
family, sacred, he

knows I need the 
sweet bones of the
ancestors, a pure
chocolate cake woven

with fruit, drizzled
with honey, chocolate,
a perfect birth day
cake- I sit by

the pool, too cold to
swim, a clay flower
painted senorita, I
laugh.
        *        *        *
An older man, probably
my age, asked me if
I'd done ceremony on
the Pyramid of the Sun,

without thinking I answered
yes, the two silver bracelets,
symbols of Quetzalcoatl,
Sacred Sixth Sun,

I bought 50 pesos 
each, the third a
gift, he smiled, "Fuego,"
fire should always 

be a gift, the 
entire day a
ceremony, the gift of
water and fire,

I hear the laughter of
my four grown 
children, grandchildren,
great grandchild in the

cosmic womb dreaming,
the ancestors singing
the rattle song, all
my friends, some over

thirty/forty years, my
students seeing me whole,
I seeing them whole, we
are the gift, we are the

ceremony.
        *        *        *
White butterflies,
ancestor souls,
guide me/us to
Quetzalcoatl's Temple,

some know it,
some don't,
yet we all 
arrive, Quetzalcoatl's

Spirit laughing in the
young grass, the
large rocks tiny
red ants carry to

their mound, bleeding
cactus fruit/flowers,
ancient clouds/air
Quetzalcoatl breathed,

laughing, I hear him
laughing, some times
weeping, for his
children, I sit

facing steps that 
he climbed (still climbs
    Full Moon Mother
blessing him), flanked

each side Sacred
Snake, Sacred Jaguar,
Sacred Eagle, Sacred
Shell, I hear him

laughing, take out my
bird rattle, Quetzalcoatl's 
flute I bought here
thirty-four years ago

at the foot of the Pyramid
of the Sun, lone vendor,
almost sunset, newly 
married, we climbed to the

top that day, each
playing it, we became
God/Goddess, today I play
bird rattle, snake/eagle

flute, weaving tears and
laughter, loss and gift,
folly and wisdom, marriage
to the Other, marriage

to the Self, silence
and song, stillness
and such dancing, today
I become fully

human.
        *        *        *
We all
we all circle
we all circle the
we all circle the Sacred
Pyramid of the Sun
rattles in hands
flutes to our lips
laughing weeping silent
singing limping dancing
we all
we all enter
we all enter the
we all enter the Sixth
we all enter the Sixth Sacred Sun
we all enter the Sacred
Sixth Sun
bracing each 
other up
together
together
together


                                           Alma Luz Villanueva
                                           Teotihuacan, Mexico
                                               October 4, 2012

                                               Into the Sixth World...

QUETZALCOATL'S RADIANCE

I live in Mexico

because fireworks wake

me up pre-dawn,

Quetzalcoatl shimmering through

sky window, these

fireworks sound like 

gunfire, someone's 

died, left the body,

someone beloved, they

explode, they weep

for two hours, through 

the day, and no

one calls the police, every

one understands some

one's left their body, some

one beloved is gone. I

dream through explosions,

wake to loud joyous 

mariachis in the distance,

a marriage, family gathering,

I live in Mexico

because death and

life hold hands

dancing, singing, exploding

with grief and joy-

I live in Mexico

because every car stops

for the funeral procession,

a singer/guitarist sings

the beloved's favorite

songs on the way to

the cemetery, where

families will gather, Dia

de Los Muertos, to

welcome their tender Spirits

home, from babies to 

elders, a feast on the

graves they decorate,

joy/sorrow equally,

beauty, song, candles,

tiny stars flicker all

night long as Spirits

come to taste tamales,

tacitos, tequila, cerveza,

fresh limes, oranges,

sweet cakes, where

the father of his Spirit

teen, grave decorated with

little cars, dancing

muertos, bottles of

empty Victorias (his

favorite), some full,

proudly shows me his

handsome boy, I can't

weep, his smile of

pure joy-

I drove to Mexico

in spring 2005, the

fear color codes of

my country, endless

wars on some enemy,

my dreams filled with

mourning women, holding 

Spirit sons, daughters,

only sorrow, only grief,

no graves of marigolds,

feasts, sorrow/joy,

death holding hands

with life, dancing, singing,

weeping, exploding

pre-dawn journey of

the beloved, all day

into the night, mariachis

leading a wedding party to

more joy, holding hands

with life death life-

I live in Mexico

to remember,

to witness

simple human

joy sorrow joy,

those without my

country's great entitlements,

the leaders, the shameless

1% who would haul

off the mourner with 

explosive weeping, singing,

who allow one in five

children in my country to

be hungry, who prefer

the poor to die (very)

quickly, while mouthing

how much they love their 

country, care for its people,

send the neediest young to

kill/die for their oil wars,

want to control the

sacred wombs of women,

the constant enemy,

the constant fear,

unhinging our young, our

unbonded to our Mother

Earth young, bringing

automatic weapons to

schools, universities,

playgrounds, now

theaters where the masses

go to dream, the manufactured

dream of Holly Wood,

dream, all humans need to

dream, many have forgotten

how to dream, vision-

I live in Mexico

because a Huichol family

in full brilliant rainbow

dress motioned me in front

of them, the market, I 

thanked them but no, their

rainbow smiles insisted,

and the woman helped

me unload my full

cart, their few carefully

selected items waited, she

smiled her rainbows, I

smiled mine, "Gracias,

gracias, gracias," 

I kept saying, why

I live in Mexico.

I live in Mexico to feel

full sun on my face,

full moon light/shadow,

Quetzalcoatl's radiance.

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico- July 2012

Alma Luz Villanueva

Dear World, dear Earth, dear Mother Ixchel... (Karma)

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

QUERIDO POPOCATEPTL...

The villagers call you
father, brother, uncle, son-
I call you lover, my
ancient lover- flying in


to Mexico City I saw
your snowy peak, you
didn't fool me, I felt
the heat of your body,


your lava, your core,
your longing for my
touch, ancient lover,
the Earth danced beneath


my feet, our Mother, la
Madre, she knew nothing
could keep me from you,
your body, your lava,


your core, the ancient 
memory of our union.
I dream your body, gift
from Earth, Sun, Moon,


every Star, I see
your molten eyes,
your molten mouth,
your molten hands,


your molten sex, lava
bright, meteor bright, first
eruption, genesis of
our longing. I am coming,


wait for me, I am dreaming,
wait for me, I am singing,
wait for me. I am dying
to receive your burning


body. Lava. 




**Flying in to Mexico City, March 20, 2012, Popocateptl's snowy peak-
then, la Madre danced beneath my feet, no turning back, that memory of 
surrender. As the planets line up, May 20, 2012, that gift of FIRE, memory,
ancestors. Two weeks after la Madre's dance, Popocateptl began to sing 
to his lover with fire and ash. Into the Sixth World...

Alma Luz Villanueva, San Miguel de Allende, Mexico