The first time you do something,
the elevated senses, uncertain motives, slight nervous fear,
the question, what am I doing here?
Walking, marching in a demonstration
In a foreign country where
you don't completely understand all the words in the chants,
but you try your best to blend your little voice in, and it gets louder as you move
through intersections where the heavy afternoon traffic must stop,
and your group stays solid,
marching. led by beautiful young people
full of life and so smart too -
For Edward, El professor, hunger strike on day 31, el hambre
sitting in a tent in front of
a huge bank in the financial district of Mexico City.
Indignatos
Fitting analogy for what we feel here on the ground
teachers paid nine dollars a day
Indignatos - the indignant.
And then the journey home, where an airplane always feeling like
the first time and why doesn't it fall out
of the sky - that blue sky over the streets in the city, and
the mountains which surround it.
I go home, to where I do understand all the words,
too well.
And our own indignant occupy the city streets
trying to use more
than words to give this sad circumstance a name
I am in my kitchen, shelling beans finally after the journey is over.
Planning to teach yoga down in the tent city.
Maybe to satiate my own hunger, hambre.
