Mother to mother

finger mesa

`

moss rock water ice

`

You await your god to give you his blood
while we bleed ours onto the earth
and pour four tears
In times of drought

The blindness of being
of choosing to see only
the last green tree
In forest of falling needles

Like the mother who has two children
and after the first one dies
remains happy
Because the other lives

If I choose hope
I am off the hook

As if optimism were a fair replacement
For truth

`

last of open waters

`

ready for snow

`