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Mundo Maya

Jean Wickham


Fulfilling the destiny
Which was concealed
In their marrow.
The fate that twisted their bones.
The invisible burden
The backs of men.

The truth hidden
In the cavernous pupils
Of the old women.
Wells drawing up
The pain at the center of the world
And opens
Hot volcanic agony

Disrupting the mesmerizing beauty of the lands
Which lulls you asleep
The smoke rises from open mouths
In the earth
Screaming silence
The perpetual death rattle
Of the scorched earth

Their memory is long and winding
Whispers in the rivers.