Todo es posible

from mount olive i call to the spirits of the west. druming. chanting. asking them to receive me. carry me through the sky to find the guides i seek in the mile high city. denver gleams with revitalization and cries from poverty hidden in banks of dirty snow. jewels fall from the sky here, landing at my feet on sidewalks swept clean of hunger. people are warm, curious, open like the big sky. rocky mountains watch silently covered with snow, as i try to understand my country, myself. cultures made of quilts sewn by spider women born of ancient rock. history rearranged by spainards and anglos and aztecs waiting for quetzalcoatl. purification ritual in the sauna with migrant farm worker women, feeding me morsels of wisdom and sustenance. everything we put in our mouthes, touched by the hands of these strong, proud people. how little we know of those who nourish us. the hungry give us life. invisible vital precious human hands. toil without praise. i cannot thank you enough for teaching me. TODO ES POSIBLE. all is possible.