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Redemption

A vision struck me in the face with the force of revelation:
I saw Nature’s door-keys stolen from Ancient Guardians of the Forest.
Indifferent pacts and blank stares fouled the air behind Mapuche backs.

I was stumbling up the southern cordillera, natural reserves,
destroyed illusions. I trekked by road machinery,
an international highway throttled by thickets,
a wall of resonant undergrowth. “Border closed”, warned a signpost.

I beheld a cascade with bell-like chimes.
A live, pumping organism of pure magic,
musical notes dancing on flecks of spray.
I heard a chorus announced by kultrun,
whose cruciform symbol began to gyrate
before my wondering eyes, “Pillan, pillan,
in your sacred name ten times we shall triumph.”

How could I once believe there were causes greater than these,
my own God could not heal wounds carved into Mother Earth
with lances from the conqueror’s armies.
Now I stood before Nature’s altar.
Mapuche spirit will endure
as surely as oceans thunder over rocks,
generations before conquerors
or the new republics’ oppressors.
Out of this land of swords and stone, light is approaching:
golden redemption of Spring.

Mapuche: Earth, people.
Kultrun: Concave drum with mandala in the center.
Pillan: Ancestors.
Ten times we will triumph: Marichiweu (Title of another poem)

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Comments

your poem is awe inspiring and well written

Chrys

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Hi lynn, thank you! Awe inspiring...wow. encouraging comment. Best Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

A very good ode to Mother Earth; and condemnation to of the selfish destructive trend of the modern approach. Done with class and feeling!

T

The most powerful reaction
of mind on mind
is transference of sight

Thank you, Tyro. Yes, it's a poem for Mother Earth, don't think it classifies as an Ode! Sadly, humandkind will always devastate the planet, we're incorrigible. Collectively, I mean. Many thoughtful individuals, but not enough. The powerful have their grip on us. We should have a worldwide revolution...
All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

A volcano explodes inside you? Sorry 'bout that. I aim for imagery, sometimes it works and other times it looks silly.
Thank you for your encouraging words, best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Hello, Gracy,
I know this is a vision, or at least starts as one, but I also know your poetry goes deeper into culture and ancestry. This has me intrigued - is there truly a ritual for the golden redemption of Spring? From your poem, it feels like there certainly should be. It sounds beautiful.
Thank you!
L

Yes, Lavender, it's both a vision and a reality. In Argentine Patagonia, the indiginous people celebrate New Year (Wipantru) on or around June 21st. It's when all life is germinating beneath the ground, getting ready for Spring. There's always a celebratory ritual, a great occasion. People dance, eat "curanto" (meats and veggies cooked on a grill underneath the earth, covered with large leaves. It takes about 3 hours to cook, it's delicious.) My son in law knows how to do it, last Summer he did a curanto by the beach. With lockdown, don't know when it'll be possible again.
The celebration is beautiful, as you say. Thank you for commenting, all the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

I just hope that it comes true before it is too late. You have a marvelous dream and connection with the land and indigenous peoples. Hold on to that dream and keep writing about it. It can only help. ~ Geezer.
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There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

Hi Gee, yes, I've said it before, I have my parents to thank for my love of the earth. I'm afraid it's already too late, we've passed the tipping point. I try to hold onto that dream, but reality makes it hard. I'll keep writing and thanks so much for your help. Still haven't revised an old poem you helped me with; a disgrace. The weather is lovely and we take walks around our area, no virus here, may it remain far away. Also do all my own cooking, cleaning, etc.
All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

to be of help. Take your time, do it right. ~ Geezer.
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There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.

Thank you, Gee. Perhaps today! I also have rather painful Fibromyalgia, so I'm slow some days.
We're having a long weekend, celebrating the Gaucho Güemes who fought alongside one of our liberation generals. You know, freedom from Spain.
Best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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