Poem #305 of 365

The quetzal feathers magically appear
in my outstretched fingers,
and as my hand closes upon them,
a force greater than me sweeps me up off my feet
and suddenly the feathers
have swollen up within my fist
to become an entire shimmering wing
which carries me higher and higher
to the land of my beginning.

I close my eyes to keep this dream alive
and to let myself release the fear,
for the winds have graciously parted
to make our flight both smooth and sweet,
and by now I can tell that
one wing has doubled to two
and soon a tail and head emerge
to form a complete magical bird.

As I climb up the muscled back
of the quetzal, we aspire to even
higher elevations, and I do not
question an uprise. I have glimpsed
down below and recognize this terrain,
a mountain place of winged fish
and fluorescent frogs, where I
have forced my dreams to take me
again and again.

We are cascading now, one feather
at a time, a shower of plummet,
and I feel my arms open wide as if
I too were a bird. We race,
the feathers, the beak, my body,
my smile, to the place of my dreams.
I will be landing soon, as the campesinos
raise their eyes to welcome what they have been
dreaming for centuries. One upon another,
our visions will blend and, when I touch Mayan ground,
my arms will remain open,
as I fly towards the deepest embrace
I have ever dreamt, ever known.

(thanks to Ozomatli for the musicial pep talk, and to my dreams which often carry me to my ancestral land)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez