100

for Ana-Maurine Lara

La tarde que beo caer sobre mi rostro

wraps you in serpentine prayer.

The Body, luminous Palimpsest

of the Divine, struggles for

peace, surprise, possibility.

Family. Joy.

Epicurean site of faith,

enigmatic Temple of the Conjurer

summoning patience from summer’s

sleeping sombras (! Hola Neko!)

Effusive with hope, I go to you,

believe the prestidigitation of vespers:

Oh, pulse of the alma,

organic candle of The Beloved,

transmogrify me,

lost in omphaloskepsis.

Forget delay: Look for grace,

transcendence. Gratitude.

Acceptance. Transition from pride,

Weakness to remember reverence,

labor, the Inquisitive ideal.

Drink in health, hope, unity.

Move toward

Home.

Namaste

Reginald Harris, 2007