Skinnin' The Pachuco

I'm just happy to be here.

Tag: earth day

22/30: WHILE I’M HERE

And while I’m here on earth, I rejoice in its worth
Cuz freedom is free”

-Chicano Batman, Freedom is Free”

I can’t name every tree branch I ran beneath like
water under the bridge but while I’m here, let me

Rejoice in the shade outside my door. Sun pours
into my hands like water and I become the color of

Light. Sometimes I want to hold this earth close as if my
heart were a greenhouse. Yes, I want to hold whatever grows

Along the axis of my pain. I have planted seeds like
poems and I do not know if anyone is actually going to read

What I am writing, what I am holding, what I am still growing.
After a long day in the wilderness, I break bread with the balance

In all things. I lament all the bees I’ve killed without first considering
life. Breathing in the same air as the mountains, as the trees, as the river,

I am anchored to the universe, the same why a rhyme sneaks into
every verse. Like it’s supposed to be here. I am supposed to be here.

Hasn’t anyone seen me swimming in the river? Atop the red rocks,
I rock my head gently in the garden of the gods. I commune with

My own existence. Every time I feel my heart beat, I remember
the laws of my body shape every phase of civilization. Look!

Silence is everywhere the cardinal’s song has yet to go. Really
all I want is to walk outdoors for miles and still have somewhere to go.

The sky always answers what’s next. And lucky for me,
everything I see and touch is beautifully enough.

22/30: EARTH DAY

Out of my own wilderness I return.
After gathering the shade scattered in the garden,
I want to thank God for the Earth,
Rejoice in the sprawling worth, remembering
Spring as the time I swam and did not sink
Remembering my flintstone feet as a sundial
While I try to see the tops of the redwoods
This earth never once betrayed me
I want to thank God for this

But stop myself

Cause God allegedly gave us earthlings too
And what this earthling does in the dark of night
Underneath the marauding magnolia trees
Maneuvering between the wind as the bayou breathes
Can spring a loathsome wrath against the space we share.
Not enough of us care, even though there are more of us now
Than ever before, and the earth is smaller now than it was,
I can see it in how we look at one another.
But today, I reach for the light.
Out of my own wilderness I return from a hungry loneliness.
Even in loneliness, I have yet to love the light less.
Were it not for the pictures of my grandma’s backyard garden
All over her Facebook wall, it’s possible I’d never forgive myself
for staying inside the house.