6:30 am
Early morning mass:
San Pedro
1
A single sunbeam descends.
Sharp blade of a heliocentric sword,
it shatters the chapel’s dark:
fragments of light
stained with glazed colors.
A pallid lily truncated
by the dawn’s pearly light,
the young widow
kneels in prayer.
Her head wears a halo.
Her pilgrim palm
presses into the granite
forcing cold stone
into warm fingers.
Flesh clutches
the statue’s marble hand:
a maze of human veins
— petrus / piedra —
this church now a rock.
2
Outside the church,
a boy pierces his lips
with a cruel spine of cactus.
The witch doctor
catches the warm blood
in a shining bowl
and blesses the girl
who kneels before him.
On her head she carries
a basket filled with flowers
and heavy stones.
He sprinkles it
with blood.
She will carry
this basket on her head
until the evening shadows
finally weigh
and she lays her burden
down.
3
Cobbles clatter beneath walking feet:
when the stones grow tongues,
will they speak the languages
in which we dream?
rogermoorepoet 
I love this piece, Roger. The imagery you use is delicate and subtle in places and yet powerful:
Her head wears a halo.
Her pilgrim palm
presses into the granite
forcing cold stone
into warm fingers.
Flesh clutches
the statue’s marble hand:
a maze of human veins
— petrus / piedra —
this church now a rock.
I look forward to reading more of this!
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Thank you, Tanya. I am revising the ms. as I blog and will certainly be putting more online. I am thinking of re-publishing the three Oaxaca books as a Trilogy in a single volume. I have a fourth book of Oaxaca prose (unpublished) and may include that as well. It is different from the others and I am still re-thinking it.
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Your first two entries of Obsidian’s Edge are very provocative, vivid and well-versed. I’m so thankful my friend, Nandita, put me onto your wonderful poetry!
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Thank you so much: I am working on Obsidian 3 right now. I’ll have it ready for tomorrow. The book was published in 2005 (At the Edge of Obsidian) but I am revising it once more as I prepare it for posting. As someone famous once said: “We are not writers: we are re-writers!”
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Roger, this is my first read of your work. And I’m simply bowled over.
How delicate! I love your diction. Please consider me a fan now.
And this:
“when the stones grow tongues,
will they speak the languages
in which we dream?”
One of the most profound reads ive come across in a while.
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Thank you, Nandita: your words bring a tear to my eye. At the Edge of Obsidian / Obsidian’s Edge came out in 2005 and it is a book of hours: a full day in Oaxaca. I will publish it on my blog, day by day and hour by hour. I am so glad that you like it. Thank you so much for saying so.
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I’m sorry it took me this long to follow you
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You’re here now: that’s all that matters. Thank you for traveling with me.
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