They stand in the corner.
\nGenerations who emptied their hands
\nof sun and storm,
\nsea urchins in the tide
\nbelow the weather of the sea,
\nmoons that fell like hail
\ninto its depths.
\nThe generosity of love.
\nAbu, my father,
\nthe faces of grandmothers
\nand grandfathers.<\/p>\n
The old, when they reach frantically
\nto give,
\nin the end,
\nonly their hearts
\nlaid piece by piece on the table,
\ngiving us our bread,
\nrecipes of leaf and fruit,
\nhieroglyphics of clouds,
\nand words written in the bark
\nof trees.
\nTears we mistake for dew,
\njoy covering the windows of winter.
\nVoices that leave us
\nsinging old songs,
\nthat are children\u2019s songs,
\nand festivals, and dancing.<\/p>\n
Always in the corner,
\ngiving, giving,
\nwhere the shadows are luminous,
\nwe feel them,
\ntheir hands on our faces,
\nstroking our hair,
\nlullabies telling us
\nthe wonder they see in us,
\nwhen they themselves
\nare wonderful.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
They stand in the corner. Generations who emptied their hands of sun and storm, sea urchins in the tide below the weather of the sea,…<\/p>\n