She lifts her cross
birds, petals, leaves
crowned with flowers
offering praise
Leading a dance
of immigrants
from life to death
and back again
She hears cries
of the disappeared
remembers tribes
honors tears
She welcomes the broken,
discarded, deported,
embracing each one
on a journey home
She cradles downtrodden
lovingly rocks them
moving from death
to life, and back again
She soaks up blood
dresses wounds
nurses despair
provides food
Petals scattered at feet
in procession of dreams
Flowers laid on graves
for all to believe
With purple flowers
in her eyes she will see
her people rise
from death to life again
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A beautiful poem and so suitable for meditation in the world we now live. Thanks.