I hear the rumble of thunder,
\nas if the world were being rolled up,
\ntrees toppled,
\nthe cymbals of brass,
\ncoreopsis daisies.
\nThe air is heavy as silk.
\nPeople are running
\nto a commotion of planes and bands.<\/p>\n
Summer is naked and sultry,
\nshining from pools
\nlike a golden plate,
\nand assembling,
\nmoving down the boulevard
\nof my city,
\nlike a dragon with smoky eyes,
\ngleaming wings.
\nThe ferocity of my country,
\nits explosion of life,
\nits drumbeat of hearts
\npounding in unison
\nwith the birth of its soul.
\nA delta of numberless songs,
\nfaces, history,
\nbeloved and reviled,
\ncombatants and lovers.<\/p>\n
I come from the north
\nand have lost count of the parades.
\nI take them from my box of memories,
\nand admire the chalices,
\nribbons,
\nkites of each millennial destiny.
\nAnd thank Providence
\nfor being here,
\namong the races and glory
\nof the world,
\nwho are protected in this galaxy,
\nto be
\nwhat they want to be,
\nto be
\nwhat they are,
\nand to close their eyes at night,
\ngrateful,
\nfor the birthright of their children\u2019s
\nfreedom.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I hear the rumble of thunder, as if the world were being rolled up, trees toppled, the cymbals of brass, coreopsis daisies. The air is…<\/p>\n