a tiny brujo
leaps into her room
out of the corner of her eye
she sees him land
a spark of color that streaks by
and vanishes in a loud snap
she lies still
white skin on white sheets
she knows who it is
in her dream
she weaves a shield of flowers, palm fronds, and ginger
red on green,
with shade between,
and purple orchids interwined
she presses the shield to her breast
held with a green snake coiled round her neck–
a choker, an amulet
she reads the signs
she sees her future
in the morning
she walks into her garden
yellow birds land on her shoulders
the sun burns her skin
she feels the world expand and contract
her heart at the center
sinking to the ground
tierra amada
she weeps at the feet
of a mud-colored god
who rises up before her
his long legs robed
his face hidden in clouds
the god rumbles
the earth trembles
her spirit soars
NOTES:
brujo: shaman
tierra amada: beloved earth
Photo of Arenal Volcano, Costa Rica, by Margaret Weinland.
Adrian Dunn is a second generation Californian with six interesting sisters, who is working on a collection of their stories called “Old Women Tell the Truth.”
