Dia de los Muertos, Cuetzalan, Puebla, MX

This humid evening
I hear the church bells continuous toll,
metal to metal, for all the dead.

The laundry hangs on rooftop lines
the children play and run in the street below.

Shedding clothes wet from
famous waterfall pools, I luxuriate in an evening where
I am not required to be anything or anywhere
I Light this candle to James, his brother and
 all the grandparents.
To the good leaders who advocated peace and justice
and to
the innocent.
My offered candle is small here, 3 pesos
My heart however is, I hope, expanding into
jungle hillsides, viney damp
to little kids asking for money in the streets,
To all the vendors and food preparers, to all those walking slowly
carrying a heavy load up these steep hills
My spirit and my heart I am inside
before and after I arrive and then leave,
closing into winter at my own house.