Submitted By: jettkeyser@gmail.com – Click to email about this post
Grateful for all the teachers in my life.
Lines
The wind is rising as clouds gather
above the coastal village of Celestun.
Resting in a simple plaza,
the Zocalo where they often linger,
the hub and heart of things here,
I am observing the old ones, faces full
of changing light. I see them move
tendering fragile bones. I do not know
grandmother sitting on the sandy plaza
steps, but I recognize life in the deep
lines of her kind face. In silence
she is smiling, offering what all her years
have shown: Turning away only builds
a wall; Be where joy lives and has lived
all along.