Hues of New Mexico
Torn and brittle by the rape
Bestowed by a civilized horde,
White against red, a nation
Ravaged by men and sword.
Only weeds dare to grow where
Once thrived peaceful folk. A dusty
Landscape topped with creosote, a few
Mobile homes scattered, barely afloat.
One highway like a vein across
Carries food, illegals and some clothes
Not even a hint of the wealth
That once flowed.
I have an urge to escape to the Sandia Peaks,
Embrace the pinkness above and beyond
Listen to the voices buried in the ground
Exposing their innocence, massacred, discrowned.
Alexandra Goodwin
Alexandra Goodwin is a transplant from Buenos Aires, Argentina, and as such, nourishes her soul like an air plant without apparent roots. As she works toward semi-retirement, she has taken residence in her imaginary tree house above her mango tree in Florida. She has written a novel and three poetry books: one with her own photographs, one in Spanish, and one an adult coloring book with Haiku poems.
Her essays and poems have appeared in the Miami Herald; Dare to be Authentic Volume 1; The Light Between Us; Live, Love, Laughter, a PEN Anthology; citaenlasdiagonales.com; and Our Town News.
"Listen to the voices buried in the ground
ReplyDeleteExposing their innocence, massacred, discrowned."
Glorious lines.