This moon marks the birth
of the prophet who vanquished death
twenty-six centuries ago.
This moon marks the days
in which I shed my scales for wings.
Four years from Year Zero, I praise you.
Dante had his Candida Rosa,
I have you.
You are the threshold of my path and my home.
For this, I praise you.
Some I have not seen in many years, but you are now even more present.
Others I see daily, but your eyes, they’ve ceased to be mirrors.
Others, between hate, love, and passion, invoke me into existence, but seldom how expected or wanted….
Even so, a sea has opened and into the high seas I go.
Life and death play games of chance with my state,
even though it was not by chance that this divine tangle was woven
to form each of us, without exception.
For this reason I say thanks to all,
for forming the tangle with which I would not be me.
Take these offerings and respond, I beg you,
with words, actions, song.
Fights, contentions, wars and scolding,
if the case may be, but do not leave in silence what I bring.
Maintain silence before the sky and the tree.
They will be here after we are gone.
Let us keep silence between us only when we have learned
the language without words, only when we have learned to migrate,
body and soul, the false frontiers between us.
These hours are pregnant with the seeds of every conclusion and every beginning.
One sun follows the other; the cycles become extinguished;
The long count is fulfilled.
See how life flows.
Let us follow her.
We are the witnesses who bleed,
breathe and exhale, and give birth to ourselves.
We are the mothers and midwives
of that which will tear us in two like never before,
and that which will join us, like always.
And this is as it should be.
See how life flows.
Let us follow her.
We are the flowered threshold and
The wounded grave turned-womb.
See how life flows.
Let us follow her.
Dante had his Candida Rosa,
I have you.
All praise to each of you!
The moon illumines in perfect equanimity
that which grows and that which rots.
My heart is made of both.
Here. I return it to you,
on this mirrored altar
beating still.
See yourselves reflected.
See the sun rising.