cracking, erupting from beneath
the cement lining calle ocho
vivaciously rising from the cracks
in the street pavements:
seeds
blossoming from weeds
from the once fertile soil
hunter gatherers would
feed families from
when the swamps
were sanctuary
and modernity
had not yet created borders
indigenous people
never dreamt of
you thought the end of the world
(as you know it)
came with thunder
tsunamis
pestilence
bodies eating
themselves down to
muscle mass in
starvation
the revolution
earth’s magnum opus
the end of the world
as you know it
begins with restoration
reclamation of the
land
it looks like paradise
it looks like rebirth
and new beginnings
it must ache
when you are so blinded
all we’ll see flying is
cranes in the sky
devoid of those
metal clouds.
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