Seven Days to Free

On Monday the border vanished 
cactus needles formed a choir 
and the desert soils danced 
reaching across unobstructed clay-rich horizons 
to hug itself and know its joined-again parts 

once-divided 

and the dry heat felt lavish 
infused with release, and deliverance from centuries-old power imbalance 
and anguish 

On Tuesday Diosito lloro tears of 
Joy 
and Jubilation 
flooded 
the 
streets 
watered the seeds that had long ago 
been planted 
and juniper shrubs grew tall 
burst open 
from their branches 
to form blossom pillows 
for well-rested 
and flowery imaginations 
Nopales uprooted and settled into rocking chairs, 
ready to tell stories of yonder years, 
of how they learned to carry and hold 
water through dry seasons and spells 

On Wednesday a phoenix rose from the ashes 
of institutions disformed and abandoned in favor 
of more 
and of liberated hope, no longer tied 
to a nation’s offered up Dream 
silver hairs 
and storytelling 
a new form of currency
Crows choreographed dances 
meant to tell us 

what it means to be free 

On Thursday new memories were activated 
by gentle hearts 
no longer taken for granted 
Enchanted 
with the new world order 
and the clouds came alive 
with the sound of ancestral music 
and stars came out during daylight 

Time let out a sigh 

On Friday children fingerpainted the new space in the sky 
and widows built bridges to cross over the river nigh 
left fingerprints 
one impressionable touch for every life 
lost 
Paleta mans wrote poems about what it means to be 

Found 

in this new reality 
where blessings really did grow on trees 

— 

what is a blessing now,
anyways?

On Saturday the crosses lain along the border 
metamorphized into wings 
and the things we carry very quickly became weightless 
No-longer illicit bodies 
our own personal oasis 

On Sunday Milagros served tamales.