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In this blind present

In this blind present, Complete but blind and mute, When we have been denied a part of our body, We have been denied the parcel of land that we are. The soul shrinks, Before vast life, Invisible lives,  Motion of all, Our smallness is a fact. Ancient volcano, You are not old, Your children shall bring, The fire from  Your center.

A butterfly wing bearing the ant, Joined in the opening Bodies of land, bodies of wind, Shut these words,  cut the eyes From the punishing signal. My heart reminds me,  That I shall cry From your embrace Extinguished embers. I ask as a human being, I ask... Where is the blood flower of my mother, Where is the tree, path to my house, Where is the scythe that blinded the landscape  Where the horror keeps The hope.