Sha' Womb an'!
Came from El Salvador
When she was a young woman.
Petit at barely 5 feet tall
A size 6 dress with a size 6 shoe
Her statute could not be measured
By size or girth.
She was strikingly beautiful.
Her husband rhapsodized luxuriously on her body
And he made his living selling cosmic nude studies.
His art was fantastic
And he most often drew his gifted and talented wife.
Years passed, and as years do,
They make forward changes and backward changes.
Like leapfrogging across the Dalles
We are centered in chaos.
Life was bled cruelly across so many hearths in El Salvador
As America attacked without mercy
Who would not grow fruit, corn, or produce cheap enough
Or democratic enough
For the capitalists.
Even here, centered in the Marin Woods on the Hills
She could not remember
What it was like without
Without the financial need to torture,
How her people looked without blood smeared on their chests
As the flies gathered.
Eventually, despite their rapturous love
Ana and her Amore
Decided to split assets.
She kept her successful jewelry business
And he kept his nudes.
Sometimes the rain on the eaves left them moody
And the moods that had once been pleasant
Now felt like the brown pollution that rubbed
The earth into the sky
And took away the startling clean blues
That blended her 70% into the cosmos.
Ana Amor kept her maiden name
And she again wondered if she would feel
The warm waters of her soul purified by love.
She prayed for the chaos to end in the Americas
And sipping tea on her porch she had a sudden vision
Of the way her puppy curled over her cold toes
When she was a child as the rains again came back.
The drought in California ended.
Shortly after Amor met Amore and they sang
Together on wonderful days of rest.
They would sit holding hands like little children
And her soul was renewed.
Amore loved his motorcycle.
On their wedding day
After they had said the I do's
And was now el morte.
She was crashed
And crashed out.
There was nothing left in her chest.
She could not breath.
The air was without oxygen
And the smeared oily air of the city
Grimed within her.
She wavered between this land and the next.
Then one day at the hospital they told her
That she had breast cancer.
There it was on her x-rays.
There it was on the screen.
She went home and sat down.
In her clean house
With her beautiful dog
With the clock ticking on the wall.
She looked at her Shaman Art work.
She made a few phone calls.
Every where she went in her mind
She knew that she was not ready
To join with El Morte.
There are places in South America
Where we cut the trees faster than we catalogue the
Old ways of medicine.
We have no idea what they are
On our latin tongued scientific charts
They are simply undiscovered
By the pharmacies
Unknown by anyone-
But those who call themselves
But you can not say it in Spanish,
You must say it in your mothers tongue.
It was here that she knew she must journey.
She could not take a chance
On chemo therapy.
She would die
Small hummingbird without nectar.
Four three months she lived in the sacred
In the jungles of brazil.
She chanted and purified and created
The orgasm out of the organism.
The medicine was sacred
When the time of healing came
She was a sha' womb and
With the ancient cosmos
Away from the factories polluting with foul odors
Even deep in her woods
High on the hills of Marin she could breath
But here in the forest
Only burning was the sacred flower
She had nipped in the bud.
Ana Amor came home to the bay area
Alive and flowing with renewed juice
Ready to again live.
The doctor was shocked.
She had not received any treatment and all signs of cancer were gone!
So she prayed.
Condor of the South
Meets the Eagle of the north.
Peace came to El Salvador.
And she left America
A wise bird in the mythic forests unknown to scientists
And loved by artists.
We live with you Ana.