1.
In Spite of War
White Flag Patriots
The children went first
because they had the most to loseâ
no color, no emblem on their flags,
no shouting, surrendering instead
as they shuffled toward the White House,
some crying, some stern,
a few humming lullabies
their mothers had taught them.
In the Rose Garden, where men
babbled into microphones,
the children lay down in the grass
to watch clouds drift west
until speeches trailed off
and only the wind was heard.
Then white flags flashed
as the children rose and sang together,
You have overcome, but we are not afraid.
For the Customs Agent Who
Seized Claudiaâs Jar of Honey
from El Salvador
for Claudia Castro Luna
Para probar, she said. Taste it. Let it
sizzle on your tongue. Take it home
smuggled in your dark pocket,
and with a spoon drip to the tongues
of your children slow sips of joy
so they may know how sweet
my country once was in spite
of war and sorrow. Tell them
about the ravine of flowers
the soldiers missed but the bees
swarmed, humming and humming,
zumbando y zumbando.
Remind them how a mother
could sit by the road with
her daughter in her arms
and a few jars of true gold,
how my coins in her brown
hand meant enough this day,
even though her man was gone,
even though your law would take
this elixir from me, even though
there will always be war, but always
flowers, bees, mothers, and your children.
If you have no children, if you do not wish
to think of war, or my country, or the woman
by the road, still, I beg you, taste this honey,
let the sticky song of a thousand bees
give your body the oldest, deepest pleasure.
Do not lose your chance to know
how sweet my country once was
in spite of war and sorrow,
a pesar de la guerra y el dolor.
Nest Filled
Use your whirling wings to find the right tree.
Use your pert eye to choose the level limb.
Use your nimble feet to cherish the hospitable fork.
Use your fearless beak to gather twigs, leaves,
grass and thistledown to weave your basket-house
open to the wuthering sky.
Use your body to be the tent over tender pebbles,
lopsided moons. Then waitâwarm, alert, still
through wind and rain, hawk-shadow, owl night.
Use your life to make life, spending all you have
on what comes after. And if you are human, a true
citizen, fully awake, then learn from the sparrow
how to build a house, a village, a nation. Use instinct
to find the right place. Use thought to know the right
time. Use wisdom to design the right action.
In the era of stormy weather, build your
sturdy nest, and fill it with the future.
Dear Mr. President
In sheer contradiction of your efforts
to warn our fellow citizens of the danger
of immigrants, a certain Antonioâfrom
MichoacĂĄn, who has been living without documents
as my neighbor for fifteen yearsâhas put me
to shame with his work ethic, thrift, good humor,
and courage, building stone walls, repairing roads,
tilling gardens, and otherwise inflicting beauty
and good order on this neglected corner of our nation
in spite of all you say to drive him away.
You, sir, are not getting through!
He keeps smiling, and bending to any task
we offer for simple wages, humming a song
I canât get out of my head or heart.
I do not know how to advise you, sir.
You have labored long and loud to cast him
down, cast him out, but he just keeps
humming that song: Qué linda estå
la mañana, en que vengo a saludarte. . . .
He is saying the morning is beautiful,
sir, and he greets you, singing.
The Flavor of Unity
El sabor que nos hace unidos.
The flavor that makes us one cannot be bought
or sold, does not belong to a country, cannot
enrich the rich or be...