Map on the skin
the treasure found
written in time
Weaving clouds
adventure in the sky
kiss on the womb
Rooted
the water
on fire flying
it fruits
in your body
You
take from the ocean
the
reflection in your eyes
shining
moon
In the mountain
there is no tiredness or
rush
only seasons
Your body kept
secrets of life
now the wind
Precious
stone
embedded
in your chest
there
you remain.
María was my mother, May 3 1937, April 23 2010
