Although father and son,
we are so different.
At the core of our souls
he is one, and I the other one.
We speak the same languages.
I have no ambitions,
but the intense desire to write.
He seldom reads my poems.
He is my beloved one.
We do not pray together.
We sit on opposite
ends of the garden.
In a every day acceptance
with tolerance in time
we perceive the same differently.
We are united by love
Hector Ahumada 2003, USA
kingdom as wisdom’s words in wind’s rustling
heart beating rhythm she utters as the water’s roar
everywhere song of life the earth quakes of it
ineffable song in peace as the crackling fire
to which birds call or curling smoke
morning sun how they worry with of incense
as dusk brings devil hunger
crickets to sing penetrating intellects chimes of morning bells
with cold intent mutters of evening prayer
moonlight’s chorus getting a grip or silently, in a manger
behind the pines on the sweetest means in stillness
alone in a watchtower of a slow death on a mountain top
King Solomon writes against an empty
of wisdom crying blood runs thick with sky
in the opening of sugar in the veins
the gates lost heart’s connection In the valley
and love of spirit heaven waits to be seen
celilo eyes like glass on the mountain
in the canyons roar drunk and wanting it takes me up
song of life in smoke
on each rock praying for comforts
a tear drop in the valley Gentle is the grass
each blade of grass all creatures stirring which grows and twirls
drop of life there is no rest in folds between my toes
pregnant nor time of day damp on my cheek
nor to waste she feels like
down in the valley on the home
the nations shutter at living
sound of rain while along rock’s faces
electing ghost kings standing at the beginning she dances in peace
they pledge to idols the mindful even the rocks
spelling rejection hearing utterances of the kingdom
of G-d; Make revelation tongue are singing
endless war in mystery
on their it’s secrets