guineales

guineales

thoughts of who i am

intertwined in the wrinkled lines

and hardened weathered working hands

that accepted out of necessity

of hungry bellies and hard hot sun

the smell of wood smoking against the rusty pot

the sound of rain against corrugated tin roof

nieta running barefoot in the mud

sweet sweat of the day rising off the soil

you squint by the rising fire

sad eyes glazed with contented acceptance

of the being here.

of the now.

of the work to do.

of the work you'll do.

          your heart is so strong

you will not falter, sacred mother.

in the wrinkled lines

i see you seeing me

i see your living life force so utterly and completely

and i am humbled in the falling of incessant rain.

                                                MZM   6-6-06