Charles Haddox

Homeland

In that place outside the moon and morning,

I awakened a shoreline of music,

like a silver herb, sweet and airy,

like a basket of pine needles

or a migratory storm.

I walk in spaces

where sound will not dwell,

nor newspapers,

nor electric lights.

Fray Mario and I

once visited the Clarisas

on a hidden street in Ciudad Juárez,

beyond deserted coral walls

and buckets black with rain.

They gave us food and harmony

and calmly asked us both to pray

for their close community,

diminished by the years.

Bakeries sold the day’s sweet bread,

shrikes cried their persistent songs;

a driver filled his box with coins,

absent as an untouched stone.

There is one special homeland,

both ripe and everlasting.

On those inherited avenues,

across immeasurable distances,

light grows like a newborn rose,

and dawn, the new creation.

Charles Haddox lives in El Paso, Texas, on the U.S.-Mexico border, and has family roots in both countries.  His work has appeared in a number of journals and anthologies. Charleshaddox.wordpress.com