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Chronology for This World |
A two by two inch square of white fabric
waves on the air like an inviting
flag. There are no names on it-
not yet. There’s no right or wrong,
no vendettas fueling the movements
of your hands, no regimented believes
imprisoning your emerging body like steel bars.
If you remain quiet long enough
you’ll hear the crying, the screams,
voices imploring help, bouncing
off each other inside the dark cave
where forgiveness roams dressed in a robe
of tears. We no longer remember the reason
for this particular ritual.
Its just an old habit handed down
through generations.
Upon regaining consciousness
an elder will hand you a worn out
piece of white cloth. He will tell you
what your name is going to be. On this
your only task is to follow his will.
The ceremony will be brief, a few words
will be said by those welcoming you
into their shadows. A trail of footprints
will be unveiled as if it was the greatest
masterpiece we could conceive.
You will be expected to follow.
copyright 2009
Nydia
Rojas |
