Sometimes the earth trembles, sweet woman.
Sometimes the earth wakes up from its deep slumber,
remembers the kisses
that turned into islands and mountains,
rejoices and spits out birds.
Sometimes the wind carries a bitterness
that bites the bark off trees
and spooks the nesting geese,
but the warmth of your hands is enough
to mold clay,
to carve blocks of wood,
to wash clothes,
to sew the garments of fate.
Sometimes, your voice on the phone,
or your ruckus raven laughter
is enough to open up heaven around your head;
and you have enough light in your eyes
for another bright spring in the midst of winter,
you have enough sweet rain
to give the cup a voice,
your spirit is so young in your old age that it calls
the clouds to rain down feathers for those newly created birds.
Sometimes the sea will run across the clouds, sweet woman,
how you ran across the desert, burning feet, burning heart,
tears of mother and daughter falling on the sand
growing flowers no one will ever get to smell.
Sweet woman, your unforgettable smile is my sky.
From your womb I emerged, to demolish hell
and carry your torch of eternal love.